The Only Truth
by Do Not Even Try
Summary: Because once upon a time, love was enough. Sequel to All That Glitters is Not Gold.
1. Paradise

**"But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms." -- Rascal Flatts, "Bless the Broken Road".**

"Happy birthday to you!"

I joined in the song, but my voice was softer than everyone else's. I felt like my heart was heavy enough to make up for my airy, unenthusiastic singing. The room was dim except for the nineteen candles that were burning down and dripping wax on the navy blue cake. The candles lit up my son's face and I realized just how grown up he was. When he blew out the candles, it felt like a gust just as powerful was blowing through my heart.

Applause echoed the room and Odette launched herself in her brother's lap.

"Can I please take the candles out?" She pleaded, her little voice high with excitement. I walked over and flicked the lights back on, revealing the faces of everyone I loved so much. Jake, his eyes tired and his face unshaven, looked just as happy as ever as he managed to carry the presents into the dining room with Adeline on his back. We locked eyes and he smiled brighter than the fire that had been burning down the candles. I felt like I had run a mile and his smile still made me want to hold him.

I was pulled from Jake World by my daughter wrapping her arms around my waist. I smiled down at Adeline and took her tiny hand. Her wavy, brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her twin, Odette, had her wavy, blonde hair down. Odette was currently pulling each candle out of Cole's cake with clumsy fingers. I noticed Cole's hand was tightly around the hand of someone else. Emily Eve Oken, my life-long best friend Oliver's daughter, had my son wrapped around her finger. They'd been dating ever since they were fifteen.

"It's nice to finally have a boyfriend that's my age," Emily teased, leaning towards Cole. Oliver huffed angrily and looked away as Emily wrapped her arms around Cole. Oliver's world revolved around his daughter, who was the apple of his eye, and he didn't take very kindly to her growing up. In fact, the day Emily moved into an apartment with her friend Mary, Oliver cried for ten minutes. That's not to say I took kindly to Cole growing up. A lot of days I felt just like I did now: sad and terrified. The world didn't make sense to me when my baby was old enough to have his own babies. He hadn't gone to college, as I always hoped he would. He lived in this shitty apartment and sold his paintings at this jewelry store. I tried almost every day to convince him to either move back here or let me buy him a better apartment, but he was so _stubborn. _Yeah, I have no idea who that trait came from.

Most days, Cole and Emily ate lunch with us. Oliver came too. I think it made the separation a little bit easier for all of us.

"I'm only younger than you for four months each year, and yet you never let me forget it." Cole grumbled, wrapping one arm around Emily and holding another on Odette's shoulder to make sure she didn't fall. She was sitting on the edge of the table, still picking at those candles. Emily was born March twelfth—two days after the day Jake and I got married—and Cole was born July twenty-sixth, so Emily turned a year older before he did.

When I realized Odette wasn't going to speed up, I pulled her off the table and into my arms.

"Hey!" She complained, her sparkling green eyes reproachful.

"Hey yourself, little girl!" I teased. I kissed her cheek and hugged her before setting her down beside her sister.

I finished pulling the white candles out, and I let Emily cut the cake. She purposely made Cole's slice tiny and he stared at her for a full twenty seconds before she started laughing and cut him a larger piece.

Once everyone had their cake, we all took our seats at the table. Adeline sat in Jake's lap and ate some ice cream while Odette sat on the actual table and ate her cake very messily.

"Honey, why can't you sit in a chair like everyone else?" I sighed in frustration. I pushed her hair behind her ear so it wouldn't get dark blue icing in it. She giggled and swung her legs (that were hanging off the side of the table). She had her cake in her lap.

"It's because she's weird." Adeline giggled. Jake laughed and grabbed Adeline's hand as she tried to put her spoon of ice cream in her mouth. He directed the spoon toward her nose and smeared the ice cream on her nose. She screamed out and turned, wiping her ice cream nose on his shirt.

"Don't call your sister weird." He scolded gently. He opened his arms and Odette jumped off the table, throwing herself into her daddy's arms. Jake smoothed her blonde hair back, and continued. "You're both weird!"

They both laughed and having them made letting go of Cole just a little bit easier. I looked at my son, who looked more and more like Jake with each passing year. Except his eyes and nose. It may be a little easier, but it was still hard.

"Happy birthday." I told him. He smiled at me and I squeezed his hand. It was hard to believe that nineteen years ago today, I was in the hospital with my new baby. Now he was in the real world. When he was younger, I worried so much about him. He liked to party back then and I was so scared he would make bad choices that would kill him. But among the other things I loved about Emily, she was so good for him. She made him _him_. He was more himself with her around than he was with her gone. Just knowing they dated helped me sleep better at night.

"Thanks for helping me get here." He smiled. He understood the sacrifices and battles Jake and I had gone through to get him here, but I don't think he understood just how much it was worth it. I would have gone through everything I had a hundred more times to give him a chance at a future. And even though I didn't agree with the way he was living life now, I knew he would make a difference in more than a handful of people's lives. He was extraordinary, and he was my little boy no matter how old he got.

"I wanna sit with mommy now!" I turned at the mention of my title. Adeline slid off Jake's lap and pulled herself right up into mine.

"I see how it is." Jake pouted. Adeline leaned against me and I kissed her cheek. She hugged my arm.

"I love you daddy, but you're a drama king." She called to Jake.

I busted into laughter and Adeline giggled along with me. I hugged her and kissed her brown hair. My girls were worth all the years and tears it took to get them. I was finally happy, but I still hurt every now and then. I still missed the baby I'd only gotten to know for three days, and I still ached over the baby who never got to take a breath. Hearing the names Isabella and Joy still made my heart feel cold. But I was healing. It's a difficult and long journey to heal over the death of your children.

Once everyone finished with cake, Cole pulled the first present toward him. It was the gift Alana and Jim had dropped off a few days ago, before they left for Spain. He pulled the wrapping paper off neatly and opened the box. He smiled and seemed happy, even though I knew he probably wasn't that excited about it. Alana always gave him two pairs of jeans, three polo shirts, a pack of socks, and two pairs of boxers. I guess those items were always very useful though.

The next was the present from Jake and I. I felt my face flushing with embarrassment before Cole even opened it. He was going to be angry. But he had to accept it! It was his birthday.

Jake caught my eye and he took my hand. He knew how much I worried over Cole's future, and that was why he had allowed me to put one-hundred thousand dollars in Cole's birthday card, knowing Cole wouldn't accept it.

Cole read the front of the card with his smile still in place, and the smile faded when he saw the check.

"Mom." He muttered shortly. He pulled the check out and pushed it toward me. "I'm not taking that."

I frowned and almost felt like crying. Jake's grip on my hand tightened.

"Please, Cole. We don't need it. You do. It's your birthday present! Please just take it. It's the least we could do." I begged. Emily muttered something to Cole and he shook his head at her.

"That's enough for nine years of monthly rent, Mom!" Cole exclaimed. "That's enough to buy a freaking house!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Or a nicer apartment."

He sighed. "My apartment really isn't that bad. I can pay for rent on my own. I don't need you giving me one-hundred thousand dollars for my birthday."

"You have no stove and your mini fridge is so loud it's almost painful, not to mention there's a lot of bugs crawling around. Oh, and the air conditioner breaks down all the time and the water decides to turn brown randomly." Emily listed off the problems with his apartment. He sighed at her and she gave him a big smile. "Just stating the facts, C-dizzle. Plus your mattress feels like a boulder and your bed creaks."

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT HIS BED?!" Oliver freaked out, his eyes bulging out of his head. Emily sighed and took her father's hand.

"Daddy, calm down. It's the only place to sit besides the couch."

Oliver nodded and took deep breaths.

"Can't you at least just take the money so you don't have to worry about rent or food? Please. It would make me so happy." I pleaded.

"I can pay for my rent and food on my own, Mom. I've got to grow up sometime. I'll never be able to if you keep trying to give me thousands of dollars on a daily basis."

"Well if you'd just take it then—"

"Take about three zeros off that check and I'll take it, okay?" He snapped. I stared at him.

"Two zeros."

"Three."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Two."

"Okay." I smiled. He paused and glared when he realized I'd tricked him into letting the amount be one-thousand dollars instead of one-hundred. I went into the other room and wrote a new check, this one totaling to ten-thousand dollars. He was going to take it if I had to throw him in my car and drive him to the bank myself.

I handed the check to Emily.

"You make sure he deposits that." She nodded and stuck the check into his pocket. I tore up the first check and threw it away.

Cole sighed.

I sighed.

Jake sighed.

Adeline and Odette sighed.

"You shoulda just took the money, you big dumb head." Odette muttered to Cole. We all avoided each other's eyes, but busted into laughter all the same.

Adeline frowned.

"Don't be mean to C." She glared at her sister. She climbed into Cole's lap and wrapped her arms around him. He smiled and kissed his little sister's head.

"At least _someone _loves me." He joked.

I gathered the plates and carried them to the kitchen. Jake followed.

"Next time I'm making Adeline give him the check." I told him.

Jake grinned and wrapped his arms around me once the plates were in the sink. He leaned me against the fridge and kissed me deeply. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.

"Who is too protective of their son?" He asked.

"Me." I grumbled.

"And who needs to trust that he'll come to us for help if he needs it?" He pressed.

"A dumbass! That won't ever happen, Jake! And you know—"

He pressed his mouth against mine, mid-sentence. He held my face tightly, and once I stopped trying to finish my sentence against his lips, he pulled away.

"Stop worrying. The next time I hear you freaking out about his financial situation, I'm going to do something more than kissing to you to calm you down." He winked in that extremely seductive way of his and released me from his grips. I yelled after his retreating back.

"THAT NEVER WAS A THREAT AND IT NEVER WILL BE!"

He stuck his head back in the kitchen, his green eyes twinkling with that familiar spunk. He smirked.

"It's not a threat, baby. It's a promise_._ And you know I always keep my promises." He raised his eyebrows, the smirk still dancing on his lips.

"Whatcha promising?" Adeline and Odette asked as they walked in the kitchen, each dragging Cole by a hand. Cole grimaced, because he obviously understood very well what was going on.

I fought back laughter and Jake faltered.

"Um…I'm promising to…"

"He said he's going to take us all out for dinner tonight!" I exclaimed happily.

Oliver walked in.

"You're eating out tonight?" He asked Jake.

"What?! Who said that?! I didn't say that! Why are you eavesdropping on a private conversation?!" Jake freaked out.

A blush seeped on everyone's face who actually understood the misunderstanding.

"Jake, honey...he wants to know if we're going to a restaurant to eat dinner tonight." I whispered.

Jake froze. He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ha…right. I knew that. My mind isn't in the gutter or anything. I understood what he meant. I was just wondering, you know, why he was eavesdropping on the most recent part of the conversation. Um…yeah. Yes, we are all leaving the house to go and eat food at a place meant for that purpose."

"You could have just said ye—" Jake cut Oliver off.

"YOU COULD HAVE WORDED YOUR QUESTION BETTER!" Jake's eye twitched.

"SO WHERE ARE WE GONNA GO EAT?!" Odette screamed. She had a very loud voice. Jake and I were almost certain she was going to be a Broadway actress.

"Wherever you two princesses want to go." Jake smiled. They both talked it over, their heads bowed together. Adeline looked up at her daddy.

"We want to go to McDonald's." She announced. Jake met my eye and we grimaced.

"Okay." He agreed.

"Do you and Emily want to come?" I asked Cole. I looked around the kitchen. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She left a few minutes ago." Cole replied. "And we were going to go out to eat tonight. Sorry." He checked his phone and then continued. "Actually, I should probably hit the road too." He hugged me and I didn't want to let him leave the comfort of this house for the cold world. "Thank you for the present and card." He hugged Jake and thanked him also.

Adeline started crying. She held her arms out and Cole picked her up. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Don't go, C." She sniffed. She cried even more, and that made Odette start to cry too. She hugged his leg.

"Don't go, dumb head!" She cried. Jake pulled Adeline out of his arms and I pried Odette off his leg. We each cradled a daughter.

"I'll be back tomorrow, sis." He promised them both. Adeline hiccuped and Odette rubbed her runny nose against my shoulder. I smoothed back her golden hair.

"Promise?" Adeline asked. Her green eyes were so honest and vulnerable.

"I swear." Cole smiled. She smiled back.

"You better swear, mister." Odette muttered. She sniffed again. "I love you, dumb head."

"I love you, C." Adeline muttered.

"I love you, Cole." I smiled.

"I love you, son." Jake laughed.

"I love you, you fatheaded daughter-stealer." Oliver glared.

Once everyone stopped laughing, Cole replied.

"What's with all the insults to my head? I love you guys too."

We all said goodbye again, and he left. You'd think he was leaving for a year with the way we all did goodbyes. But I like to know he knows we love him. It's important for him to understand there are people who love and support him, especially with that lonely and difficult life he's living now.

* * *

**COLE'S POV:**

The moment I opened the door to the apartment, she was back in my arms. I held her so tightly it hurt. I'd been feeling down all day, and I wasn't vain enough to pretend it was for some other reason than my wounded pride. Having her here made me feel so much better. I don't know what I would have done if we hadn't decided to live together behind our parent's backs.

I pulled back a little and pressed my lips against hers. My knees felt a little weak. I broke the kiss and shut the door.

Without Emily, the apartment was a monotone mixture of off-white and gray furniture and walls. With Emily, it was paradise.

I took her hand and we walked past the kitchen area of the open room. She laid down on the couch and patted the small opening beside her. I laid down beside her and our bodies were pressed together to tightly my testosterone was screaming at me. She kissed me softly and I draped an arm over her waist.

"That was great today. You almost sounded as if you really hated the apartment." I joked. She grinned and pressed her face into my neck. She kissed me once and I let my chin rest against the top of her head. Paradise.

"Right. Because I definitely don't hate it. Not one bit." She teased. Her breath was hot against my skin. I stroked her dark brown curls and longed to kiss her lightly freckled nose or her soft, pink lips. Just seeing her made everything better. Just holding her in my arms made all thoughts of financial trouble, of the argument with my mother, of my injured pride disappear. All I could think about was Emily's body against me, and her heart intertwined with mine.

Working this living arrangement out had been tricky. Oliver would have probably skinned me alive and used my skull to store valuables if he knew we lived together. Whenever Oliver wanted to visit Emily, she hurried over to her friend Mary's apartment that she "shared". If Oliver showed up randomly, Mary told Oliver Emily was at the grocery store and called Emily. If my parents came over to see me without calling first, Emily was "just visiting". Half her stuff was here and half was at Mary's. She had enough there to look like she lived there, and enough here to hide quickly. It was complicated, but it was worth it. Some days I felt like if I didn't have her with me I'd go insane.

She lifted her head and moved it where my eyes could meet hers. I had never seen such deep and open brown eyes in my life. It was the color of my world. Her black eyelashes looked beautiful against her creamy skin when her eyes fluttered shut. She knew me so well that she knew I was going to kiss her the moment before I did. I pressed my lips to hers and deepened the kiss, tasting the taste so intoxicating I couldn't get enough.

I pushed my hand a little up her shirt, playing with a newly broken boundary. I stroked the dip of her waist and she buried her hands in my hair. Just when my self control was slipping, she pulled away. She pressed her face back against my neck and her heart was pounding against my chest. We breathed heavily together.

"I missed you." She whispered.

I don't know if she'd ever understand just how much I had missed her in the few minutes we were apart.

"Missed you too. And you know what else?" I gently lifted her face. Her cheeks were flushed light pink.

"What?" She asked. I smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I happen to love you." I replied. She grinned.

"Oh really? That's convenient because I happen to love you too."

We may be in an apartment that only has water and electricity half the time, but we have plenty of love and happiness. And that's all that really matters, right?

"It must be my lucky day." I pressed my cheek against her smooth one.

If every moment of the rest of my life could be like this moment, I would have the luckiest life to ever have been lived.


	2. Better

**A/n: **Thanks for all the reviews!! I'm glad you guys like the story so far. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**"Just when I think that this life's about to drive me insane, you take the reins. Every time I feel I'm drifting off course, you're my compass, you're my one true north. In a mixed up world, you make sense to me girl." -- Rascal Flatts, "You"**

COLE'S POV:

Mornings are hectic.

I have to get all my paintings and drawings together to go down to Steven's shop, and Emily has to get ready for class. She attends an advanced dance academy with classes that start at eight and go until four PM, with only one break in between. Sometimes I think it tolls on her.

"We need to get up." Emily sighed. I tightened my arms around her. The room was dark except for a few light blue rays of early morning light peeking up from behind the curtains. The alarm clock to my right informed us it was almost seven AM. The room was drafty and the sheets were cold, but my heart was warm.

"We could just forget about life for a day." I mumbled. The smell of her hair and skin was making me sleepy again. The shorts she slept in weren't very long, and the smooth skin of her legs rubbed against mine when she moved. The rich color of her curls, eyes, and blush colored the room beautifully. The walls were light gray, the nightstand was white, the bed's headboard was made of rickety metal, and a threadbare, white quilt covered the white bed sheets. But when I opened my eyes, I saw smooth, raspberry pinks and shimmering, chocolate browns. I saw silky, coral lips and thick, ebony eyelashes and sandy freckles dotted on a beautiful nose. I guess you could say I saw the world.

"I wish, C-dizzle." She laughed sleepily. I leaned forward and kissed her coral lips. They tasted sugary.

By seven thirty, we were ready and in the kitchen. I was attempting to make eggs using the microwave, but it wasn't really working. Emily had the radio on and she was singing as she tried to fix the toaster. It liked to refuse to accept bread. She twirled back and forth between two drawers and she looked so elegantly beautiful it was hard to pay attention to the egg mess. Her long hair was pulled up in a bun and she had a pair of deep red shorts over her white tights and black leotard. Her new ballet instructor was very strict and made them wear white tights, black leotards, and their hair up in tight buns for every practice. Emily used to carry her outfit with her in a gym bag and change there, but she stopped a few weeks ago. When I asked, she just said they didn't have much time before class to change anymore. Now she just took off her shorts and pulled on her ballet shoes.

"Take the damn bread!" Emily yelled, slamming the toaster into the counter. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and gave up on the eggs. I pulled open the microwave door and took the bowl out. I poured the eggs into the trash can and set the bowl in the sink. I grabbed a half-gone jar of peanut butter out of the pantry and wrapped an arm around my distressed girlfriend's waist. I kissed her cheek and she glanced at me, her bottom lip protruding a bit.

"It won't take the bread." She glared angrily at the toaster. I used the arm around her waist to gently pull her away from the counter. I opened the drawer she was standing in front of and pulled out two spoons. I unscrewed the peanut butter top and stuck the two spoons in it, and then I handed Emily the jar. I kept one arm just above her lower back, and another under her thighs, and I pulled her up into my arms. She yelped in surprise. I set her down in a chair at the unstable kitchen table and sat beside her. I took the jar from her hands and set it in the middle of the table and handed her one of the spoons.

She grinned, scooping some peanut butter onto her spoon.

"Why Cole, you sure do know how to treat a lady." She teased. I grinned and she kissed me. She tasted like peanut butter. The leotard thing she was forced to wear looked beautiful on her, but what didn't? It did that V-neck thing in the front, and the back scooped down so her pretty shoulder blades were visible.

She rested her hands against my chest and moved into my lap, still kissing me. Much better than breakfast. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and leaned fully against the back of my chair. The kiss deepened from playful making out to something more passionate and her hands were shaking as she pushed them under my shirt. Her hands against me felt right and either that secondhand peanut butter had made me gain ten pounds or my pants were painfully tight for other reasons. My hands skimmed down her back and the leotard became very annoying. You can't stick your hands up a leotard. I pulled her closer against me and cuss words were flying through my mind because I wanted nothing more than to make love to her on this decrepit table in this god-awful apartment. But that was a line we hadn't crossed, and I wasn't about to have her lose her virginity on a table that may or may not snap any moment.

As if the chair were insulted I was insulting its friend, it decided to wobble. I really couldn't care about it wobbling, though. Emily pulled her lips from mine and rested them against my cheek as she breathed heavily. I was in a similar state. When the chair started making very suspicious creaking sounds, I understood the warning. I quickly jumped up, pulling Emily with me. The chair leaned toward the side, two of its legs coming out of the sockets. It clattered to the floor.

Emily laughed, her cheeks that familiar color of delicious raspberry. She leaned her head against my shoulder, her breath hitting my neck.

"I guess we're sharing a chair from now on." I whispered. She hugged me.

"No complaints here."

I listened to our heartbeats, and the song drifting from the radio. It was one of our songs, from so long ago. She recognized it almost as soon as I did. She kissed my neck. We almost always listened to a country music station these days, because it reminded us of the day we had gotten together. It defined us.

I glanced at the clock over Emily's head. Oops.

"Shit. It's four minutes until eight." I informed Emily. She jumped out of my arms, her eyes wide.

"Oh no," She groaned. She grabbed her purse and keys off the table. I caught her arm before she darted out of the door.

"I don't get a goodbye kiss?" I joked. She relaxed for a moment.

"Oh please, C-dizzle. You just got way more than a goodbye kiss. Don't be greedy." She teased. She kissed me all the same. "I love you."

"I love you too. Have a good day."

She grimaced. "Thanks, but I doubt I will." She hesitated before walking away. I watched her run down the stairs toward her car. I was going to be late too, but I didn't really care. I probably needed a cold shower anyway.

* * *

**EMILY'S POV:**

I am terrible.

I felt sweat glistening on my forehead as I leaned over and placed my palms on my knees. I breathed heavily, exhaustion locking my joints in place. The music continued to pump out of the speakers, and I knew the next moves, I just couldn't do them. I couldn't. Six hours is too much. I'm just not as good as the other girls; I'm just not cut out for this. I'm not good enough for anything.

"What the hell was that, Oken?"

The instructor's hot breath warmed the top of my head as she screamed at me. _I'm trying, _I wanted to scream, _I can do this! I'm not trying to let you down! _My heart was beating so fast I could have thrown up.

"I'm sorry," I finally panted out. I'm probably ruining her whole show. I'm so selfish. "I don't know! I just…I'm tired."

I shakily let myself fall to the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I pressed my face against them and tried to get my breathing down to normal.

"Well maybe if you were in shape like the other girls you'd be just as good!" She barked. "Samantha is down to her target weight already. You still have seven to go."

I wanted to cry in frustration. I'm trying so hard. I am trying. She thinks I'm just being lazy or trying to sabotage her show, but I want to dance! I want to do right. It's hard to get down to ninety-eight pounds! Or maybe it isn't hard for good dancers like Samantha and Julie, who drop two pounds almost every practice. I'm just not good enough.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, again. I lifted my head. My hair had come out of the bun and strands were sticking to my sticky face.

"Sorry isn't good enough in the dancing world, Oken. Do you want to be a ballerina or not?" She hissed.

"Yes. I do. I really do." I whispered. She grabbed my arm tightly and yanked up. I quickly climbed to my feet, ignoring the way I felt dizzy and nauseous.

"Then get with it! Do you understand? I'll kick your ass out of here as quick as you can say you're sorry again! You are only hurting this class. It wouldn't bother us to send you packing. Now," she walked back to the front of the class, "we're starting the song over! I want _everyone _up to speed!"

I felt like if I had to do the dance one more time I might die. My legs were shaking and the muscles were tight and stiff. And I felt hungry. That was the stupid feeling that was ruining my dancing. I used to be the best. Now what am I? Nothing.

I'm not sure how I got through the practice, but by the time four rolled around, I felt tears moistening my eyes. I just wanted to go home to Cole. That's all I wanted. I don't want to be here, dancing so much I could throw up. I don't want to be here, getting yelled at. I just want to be with him.

In the changing rooms, girls stripped down without a second thought and jumped into the showers. I wanted to take a shower too, because I felt disgusting, but I was ashamed. I didn't want them to see my body, which wasn't as good as theirs. I was embarrassed of the way I looked, and it interfered with everything. I sat down and shakily pulled my shoes off. I put them in my bag and pulled my red shorts on over my tights and leotard. I pulled my tennis shoes on and stood up. I adjusted the strap of my bag and walked over to the sinks, splashing cold water on my hot face. I glanced up at the mirror and tried to find something to make up for my ugly body and terrible dancing. I couldn't see anything that Cole swore he saw. I saw a girl with a flushed, heart shaped face, boring cheekbones, and light skin. I saw a nose that wasn't the right size for my face, two eyes that were a dull shade of brown, and light freckles on my nose. I saw lips there weren't plump enough and a smile that wasn't pretty enough. Most of all I saw a girl that wasn't enough for anything.

"Emily?"

I turned and the girls from class were smiling at me. I smiled back. They were so sweet to me, even if they weren't to each other. Samantha hugged me tightly and Sharon squeezed my hand.

"Don't listen to her. She just takes everything out on you because she thinks you have the potential to be better than her." Julie whispered. Everyone nodded in agreement and I tried to feel better, but I didn't. I knew they were only saying that because I was their friend. I knew they really agreed with her. I was everyone's friend though, and sometimes I just wanted to be someone else. I hated being soft-spoken and kind. I wanted to scream and throw things and make people cry. But it was so against my nature just the thought made me shudder. I appreciated that they wanted to make me feel better, but I couldn't feel better until I was back at the apartment. When I was in Cole's arms I felt beautiful and wanted and _enough. _Here I felt like a fat reject that can't do anything correctly.

"Thanks girls." I smiled and hugged them all. "I think I'm gonna head home now. Thanks again. I love you guys. I'll see you tomorrow."

I was halfway out of the dressing room when someone touched my arm. I turned around and Janette was giving me an embarrassed expression.

"Emily…I hate to ask you this, but you're the only person I would trust enough…do you think, maybe, I could borrow twenty dollars? I need to go and get some groceries for my dad and Rick has like all my money from my last paycheck."

Janette had a boyfriend who stole her money and used it to go out and drink. She still let him sleep in her bed, in her apartment that she paid for. I felt really bad for her. I handed her the money, trying not to think about how much Cole and I probably needed it. We had love. She didn't have anything.

"Thank you so much! I promise I'm going to pay you back!" She sounded breathless as she shoved the money in her pocket. I hugged her, and her clothes smelled like men's cologne. Poor Janette.

"Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow."

I hurried out to my car before anyone could say anything else. The ride back to the apartment was short, but my heart forced my tears out, so I drove around empty roads while I cried. I stopped at Cole's favorite restaurant and ordered us dinner to go while I waited for my eyes to turn back to the correct pigmentation.

He was my best friend. He had always been the person I wanted to talk to when I was upset, even when he didn't want anything to do with me. He was always the person I wished to see when I opened my door. But there was a part of me that knew I shouldn't tell him about what happens at the dance studio. So I kept my breakdowns private and let the pain build in my heart, instead of talking to my best friend and the man I love about it. I was lucky enough for both of them to be the same person.

Our order number was called and I paid for the food. I balanced the two Styrofoam boxes and thought to myself that maybe I missed my calling as a waitress. Maybe I'm just not supposed to be a ballerina. It's just, I feel so happy when I am dancing for fun. There's nothing quite like it, save being with Cole. It isn't fair that the one thing I can connect so emotionally to might not be my calling. Maybe I was destined to end up like my mother. Maybe it's my fate and I just can't fight it.

The drive home (because that's what a place that makes you feel safe and complete is, right? Your home?) was short. I felt disappointed when his car was missing from the parking lot. I hope he'll come home soon, because I need his arms maybe more than I need oxygen or food.

I took a quick shower, studiously avoiding looking in the mirror. I didn't even want to see myself naked, much less let anyone else. Once the sweat was washed from my body, I pulled on a pair of pink underwear and a bra, a t-shirt, and some shorts. I let my hair air dry.

I opened the door and the cold air slammed into me. Cole still wasn't back. I guess that means he didn't have much luck so far. He usually wouldn't come home until he sold at least two paintings. He was selling his masterpieces for shitty prices like one hundred and two hundred and it really upset me. But what else was there to do? No one in Malibu who went to the jewelry pawn shop really had an eye for expensive art, or the wallet for it. For about two weeks, Cole had people come and buy tons of paintings for great prices. He was so happy and really thought things were going well. Then he found out the people were sent by his mother. He got so angry and they had a really big fight. She was only trying to help, but I understood why he was so angry. He was embarrassed, ashamed. He thought his art was really starting to be worth something, only to find out it was a big lie.

So I guess you could say both our careers were pretty much shit right now, but once I walked through that door, everything got better. I didn't know if it was the same for him, but it was for me. I needed to be able to just turn over in the middle of the night and see his golden hair or tanned skin. I needed to be able to look in his bright blue eyes every morning and know that this really, truly was a new day, and with him, anything could happen. But most of all, I just needed _him_. I needed his sense of humor and his smile and his hands. I was completely and utterly dependent.

He finally arrived home about five minutes later. He wrapped his strong arms around me and I felt beautiful and satisfied with everything in my life, because I had him. He set his hands on my shoulders (hands that always seemed to have some sort of paint staining them) and I leaned up and kissed his smooth lips.

"How was dance?" He asked. He smiled at me when he saw the food. "I have been craving this all day long. How did you know?"

At least I did something right. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his back. He reached an arm back and stroked my hair. I realized all too soon my silence had given me away. He turned around and gently pulled me against his chest, and this time I cried.

I breathed in his smell as I cried into his blue shirt and he stroked my hair, not saying one word because he knew me and he knew I didn't want to answer questions, I just wanted to cry.

As soon as the tears were out, so was the pain from today. Today was over, and maybe tomorrow would be better. And even if it wasn't, I had Cole. I always did.

He pushed my shirt up a little bit and set a warm hand on my back. His thumb rubbed comforting circles and I relaxed finally. He probably thought I was PMSing or something.

"Better?" He asked. I looked up and his blue eyes (that sometimes had a tint of green) searched mine.

"Yeah." I admitted. I smiled and he smiled back and no questions were asked. I love him.

We heated up our dinner in the microwave and ate on the small balcony porch that was outside of the living room. We shared a beanbag chair and kept our food in our laps and watched the sun set from between the wooden bars that held up the banister. When we were finished eating, we set the plates beside us and stayed where we were. The stars weren't very visible, but I didn't need them. Moths buzzed around the small, dim light that was mounted on the wall and Cole's arm fit perfectly around me. I looked up at him and found he was already looking at me. He smiled the smile that held my world together. In his eyes I saw all his emotions: happiness, love, and desire. It made me feel guilty. I wanted to make love with him about as much as he wanted to make love with me, but I was scared. I was always scared.

"I'm sorry, C-dizzle." I whispered, using the ridiculous nickname that had started out as a joke and ended up sticking. His head leaned a little to the right, something he did when he was confused.

"For what?" He asked. His voice was smooth and deep and perfect. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"For not being ready to have sex with you. It isn't fair to you and I'm really sorry." I whispered. He ran his fingers through my hair.

"You know I'm perfectly okay waiting. I love you and I respect you." He kissed my forehead. He paused. "But I definitely wouldn't complain if you wanted to do it."

I smiled lightly.

"I just…I don't want to end up like her, Cole."

I stared out into the black, inky night. I could feel his eyes on me and I wished more than anything that my words were the complete truth.

"I don't want to end up pregnant and then realize I'm not ready to be a mother. I don't want to abandon my baby. When we're in a situation when we are prepared if a baby should come…then I think that's when I'll be ready."

When I thought of my mother, all I felt was a small prick of anger, and shame. The sadness had long evaporated. Cole pulled me closer to him. Our bodies crushed together and he kissed me, both of us on that small beanbag chair.

"You could never be like your mother. But I think you are the smartest girl I've ever known." He whispered. I smiled softly.

If only that were the real reason I was afraid to take our relationship to the next step.

We gathered our plates and the beanbag chair and went back inside once the mosquitoes found me again. I took the plates to the sink and Cole dropped the beanbag chair on the floor. I turned the radio on and Cole playfully pulled me in his arms. He set two hands on my waist and I looped mine around his neck.

"Do you even know how to dance?" I joked. He proved the answer was no when he started spinning us spastically around the kitchen. We collapsed down on the couch, our heads spinning and our eye unfocused. He tried to kiss me while we were still off balance, and his lips missed my lips by two inches. We laughed. Once we were steady again, we got our stuff together. Every night I read and he drew or painted. It was a little quiet time for both of us.

He set his sketch book on the arm of the couch and patted his lap. I laid down and rested my head on his lap. I leaned my book against my propped up knees. The font was pretty large so I could make out the words. We listened to familiar music as I read and he drew. He stroked my hair back with his right hand and drew with his left, humming along with the music. How could living with my boyfriend be so wrong if it was obviously so right?


	3. Magic

**A/n: **Sorry for the wait :) Thank you for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

"**Deep in the dark you'll surrender your heart." – LeAnn Rimes, "Can't Fight the Moonlight".**

**MILEY'S POV:**

I was just finishing a text to Jackson, reminding him of Dad's birthday, when my phone was pulled from my hands. I turned over in the bed and raised an eyebrow at Jake. His face was expressionless as he reached over me and set my phone on the nightstand. He leaned down and wordlessly pressed his lips to mine. He placed a hand under my head and back and pulled me up, holding me tightly against him. I kissed him back hesitantly. His tongue pushed past my teeth and I responded a little more enthusiastically this time. Then, he suddenly pulled away. I was about to demand to know what was going on, when he yanked my tanktop off me. The cold air shocked me and he pressed his mouth back against mine, his hands curving down my shoulders and then stroking my stomach. He pushed me down on the bed and he touched the front clasp of my bra. I grabbed his hands.

"Slow down, big boy." I joked. I caught my breath and continued. "Is the door locked?"

He answered my question with a nod and by unhooking the clasp and letting my bra fall open. He pulled it off me. His eyes lingered for a second too long. He was leaning back down when a light knock sounded throughout the room. Shit.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Adeline's quiet and sleepy voice was strangely loud on this quiet night. Jake looked like someone told him Christmas was no more. I reached for my tanktop that was on the other side of the bed and Jake grabbed my hands.

"No…" He protested, a pout already forming on his lips. I sighed and moved back on the pillow. Jake pressed his lips to my neck and I slapped his head lightly.

"What is it honey?" I called.

She sniffed.

"I had a nightmare. I wanna sleep in your bed tonight." She sobbed.

Jake sighed and sat up, his pout reforming. I grabbed my tanktop and hugged him.

"Sorry." I whispered. I climbed off the bed and pulled my tanktop back on. He followed me toward the door and I glanced down and then met his eyes.

"Baby, you might want to go into the bathroom for a little while."

He sighed deeply and trudged off to the bathroom, his head bowed the entire way. I felt bad for him and our sex life. It had been reduced to quickies in bathrooms and our offices. The quickies obviously weren't helping anything seeing as though he almost jumped me a few minutes ago…maybe I should start wearing more clothes to bed.

I pulled on a pair of pajama pants and opened the door. Adeline was standing with her head resting on Paint's back. She stood up when I opened the door. She ran for me and I pulled her into my arms. She rested her head on my shoulder and cried. I rubbed her back and she sniffed, her tiny hands gripping me as if I were a life preserve. My poor baby.

I carried her into the room and I sat down on the bed with her. I stroked her dark hair back and Paint jumped up on the bed. He nervously pawed at us, concerned for Adeline's safety.

"Do you want to talk about the dream?" I whispered. She shook her head and I laid down. She crawled to the middle of the bed and stared at Jake's spot in confusion.

"Where's Daddy?" She asked.

As if he heard her question, Jake emerged from the bathroom. He smiled at us.

"Hi, princess! Did you have a bad dream?"

She ran to her father's arms and cried into his shirt. I felt a little jealous that she was so much closer to him, but I had been the same when I was that age. Jake frowned at me over her head. He thought we should talk to someone about her frequent nightmares. He was scared something had happened to her that she didn't tell us about that made her get so many terrible dreams.

"It makes me scared to sleep." Adeline admitted to Jake in a tiny whisper. He wiped her tears and kissed her head. She laid down in the middle of the bed and I fixed the blankets so they were covering her. Jake laid in his spot and wrapped an arm around her.

"You don't have to be worried. You're sleeping between mommy and daddy and look!" He pointed at the foot of the bed. "Paint is even here!"

Paint lifted his head at the sound of his voice. He stood up and unsteadily walked up to us. He curled up between me and Adeline. The dumb dog took up most the bed. Adeline stroked Paint's fur and then reached for my hand. I smiled and took hers, glad that she loved and needed me.

A minute later, another sleepy child trudged in. Odette wordlessly crawled in the bed beside me. She didn't like being left out of anything. I kissed her blonde hair and she fell back asleep quickly.

"I'm sleepy. I'm gonna go to sleep now. I love you guys." Adeline whispered in a tiny voice. We listened until both Adeline, Odette, and Paint's breathing evened out.

"I can't even see you." Jake complained. I laughed quietly and sat up so we could see each other over Paint's large body. Jake looked at the three bodies between us.

"How many weeks has this happened?" He asked.

I grimaced. "About four months."

I knew this because about four months ago my back started hurting every morning when I woke up.

"Okay," Jake started, in his I-have-an-idea voice. "Tomorrow we're doing something. Just you and me. We're going to go to a play or concert or something and then we're going to dinner."

I grinned. "And by dinner you mean have sex, right?"

He grinned too. "No…of course not. That's the dessert." He winked.

I sighed and looked over at our girls. I stroked back Odette's hair and smiled at Adeline, her arm still draped over Paint.

"And what exactly do we do with the angels?" I asked.2

"We let Lana watch them. Abby is their best friend, I think they'll be okay with it." Jake answered.

"Nope. Lana and Jim and Abby are out of town until Monday." I replied. The idea of getting almost a whole day to spend just with Jake was very inviting, but not very realistic. It's not that I didn't want to spend time with the twins, I loved them so much. It's just every couple needs some time beyond two hours to themselves every once and a while.

"Your dad? My parents?" He tried.

"Your parents are in Spain, and my dad makes them watch old videos of his concerts and they come home singing 'Achy Breaky Heart'."

Jake winced. "Yeah, that's true. What about Cole?"

Cole was a great big brother and the girls adored him…seems like a good idea. Plus, if we don't call and tell him before we go drop them off, I'll get a chance to see what his apartment really looks like. When he knows we're coming over I'm almost positive he runs next door and borrows food to put in his kitchen.

"That could work. But let's not call and ask him. Let's just show up tomorrow…" I trailed off. Jake's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Why don't we just get him to come here and watch them?"

"Because I want to catch him off guard." I replied simply. He understood what I meant.

"What if he can't?" Jake asked. Adeline sighed in her sleep and Jake gently pushed her hair back from her forehead and stroked her hair. His eyes filled up with concern. "We really should see someone about her nightmares."

I tried to not be worried, but his worry almost always made me worry too.

"It's probably just a phase. I don't think something happened, Jake. When is she ever out of our sight long enough for anything to happen?" I asked.

Jake avoided my eyes for a moment. He stared at the blanket before replying.

"When she's over at my sister's. What if…" He trailed off with shame and I understood immediately.

"Jake…that's a terrible thing to think. Joe is a good guy, he wouldn't…" I couldn't finish either. Just the idea made me sick.

Jake finally met my eyes. "All I know is that my baby is having nightmares almost as bad as the ones you had almost five years ago, and I want to know why." He paused and I thought he was finished, but he continued. "And if someone did hurt her, I want them dead."

His hands shook and he tried to hide it. I slipped off the bed and the floor was cold on my bare feet. I sat on the edge beside Jake and hugged him. I stayed in his arms because it was where I felt I belonged.

"For once, we don't have someone who is trying to ruin our family." I whispered. I kissed his shoulder. "Don't let our past dictate every suspicion you have. I believe she's just fine. She's just going through a phase. Besides, Odette never leaves Adeline's side. If something would have happened, we would have heard about it."

"Yeah, but what if—"

I kissed him. When I pulled away his eyes still looked worried and sad.

"No ifs. Don't worry so much. If she doesn't get better by next week, we'll find a child therapist and bring her to see them. But let's not jump to horrible conclusions."

He nodded and glanced back at the girls. He leaned over and pushed Odette's fair hair out of her face. His hand lingered on her cheek and I wished I had a way to prove to him they were perfectly okay.

"I just don't want them to be hurt." He finally said. I laid down beside him, but there really wasn't much room to spare so I was pressed right up against him and still felt like I might roll off the bed.

"As long as we love them, they won't be." I replied. After all, the most hurt you can do to your children is to make them feel like you don't care about them.

He kissed me. "Goodnight, Miley. I love you."

I started to reply, but realized I was about to slide off the bed. He caught me right before I fell off the edge. We laughed quietly and he held me tightly against his chest.

"I am so waking up on the floor," I laughed. I sighed and leaned my face on his chest. "Night, Jake. Love you too."

* * *

That next morning I was in the process of making sandwiches when Jake walked in. I woke up on the floor that morning, something that came to no surprise. What _did _surprise me was that Jake was also on the floor. I guess dream me pulled him down with me.

"Look at you! I married Susie Homemaker!" He exclaimed. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. I turned around and face him, narrowing my eyes.

"Hey, I'm getting a lot better at this!" I pointed at the sandwiches on the counter that were actually normal-looking.

He smiled. "I know, you are! I'm proud of you! It only took almost twenty years!"

I stuck my finger in the mayonnaise and wiped a glob on his nose. I glared.

"You know you have to lick that off now." He raised his eyebrows. I laughed and set a hand on my hip.

"Yeah, right. Sure I do." I turned back around. He stuck in head in my view.

"You put it there." He argued. He waited patiently.

"I'm not licking mayo off your nose! That's gross." I muttered, still a little hurt about his snub at my cooking abilities.

He didn't move an inch.

I picked up a napkin and wiped it off. He frowned.

"I preferred licking, but I guess that works too."

I went back to making the sandwiches. "Maybe if it had been chocolate or whipped cream I would have. But not mayonnaise. Ew."

"That can be part of the dess—"

"MOMMY! ODETTE STOLE PRINCE COREY!"

"I DIDN'T STEAL YOUR FREAKING UNICORN!"

"YES YOU DID AND DON'T SAY THAT WORD!"

Jake and I exchanged a glance. I sighed.

"Why don't you break up World War III and I'll finish these sandwiches?" I suggested.

"Why are you even making those if they're going over to Cole's?" He asked.

I snorted. "Like Cole knows how to feed them. I bet he's living off Spaghetti O's and peanut butter. I'm sending these for lunch and I'm giving him cash to either go out to eat or order in."

"Smart thinking. I'm going to intervene. Pray for me." Jake dramatically turned around and charged for the twins' room.

I laughed and finished the sandwiches. I started packing everything they'd need in a large lunchbox. I listed everything I needed to make sure the twins brought in my head.

"NO, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! YOU'RE IN PEACE WORLD NOW!" Jake yelled. He entered the kitchen a moment later, a daughter slung over each shoulder. He wordlessly walked up to me and turned around. Adeline's stuffed unicorn was in Odette's hands.

"As you can see, I caught the little thief in the act." Jake teased. I sighed and Odette gave me an innocent smile. I pulled her off Jake's shoulder and set her down on the floor. Jake set Adeline down.

"What's the issue here, girls?" I asked. Adeline sniffed and reached for her stuffed animal. Jake gently prodded Odette.

"Give it to her, Odette."

Odette avoided our eyes and shoved the unicorn in Adeline's arms.

"I only wanted to let it live in the Barbie house." She mumbled. Adeline squeezed the life out of her stuffed animal and thanked everyone.

"Oh, and you little missy," I moved so Odette was looking me in the eye. "Don't say 'freaking unicorn'. Got it?"

She nodded. There was a pause before she yelled. "BUT I CAN SAY FREAKING HORSE, RIGHT?!"

Jake burst into laughter. He quickly stifled it.

"Come on, Miley. You set yourself up for that one." He defended her. Adeline brushed her unicorn's fur with a sparkly comb. Odette grinned up at her dad. They had the same smile.

I couldn't keep from smiling. I sighed and pulled Odette up into my arms. Her green eyes were so happy. I kissed her forehead and hugged her.

"Just don't say it in front of grandma, okay?" I said. Both girls and Jake laughed at that.

"Can we go swim?" Adeline asked. I set Odette back down and fixed Adeline's pony tail.

"You're going to spend the day with Coley today." I replied.

"DUMB HEAD?! WE'RE GOING TO DUMB HEAD'S HOUSE?!" Odette screamed excitedly. Adeline burst into a chorus of YAYs and yanked on my hand. I lowered myself down to their level and she hugged me.

"Thanks, Mommy!" She said. I hugged her and for a moment, and with my arms around her, I found myself astonished that I had really gotten this far. I released her and kissed her nose. She giggled.

"Yes, you are! Well…it's more like the size of your bedroom…but it's his home." Jake laughed. His words made me feel sad. His home. It wasn't that long ago that his home had been here.

Jake caught my eye.

"Why don't you two run and go pack your bags for Cole's?!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"Okay!!" They yelled. I watched them run out of the kitchen and toward their room. Jake pulled me into his arms.

"You're not going to cry again, are you?" He asked. I sighed.

"No, I'm not going to cry. I just…I don't know. I don't think he's ready to be living on his own. He's our little boy. He's not an adult." I argued.

"Technically he is. You have to let go sometime." Jake said. I stared at the stubble on his cheek and sighed.

"I know. I just didn't think it would be so soon." I pulled out of his arms and turned around to finish packing everything up. "Doesn't it feel like yesterday, Jake? To me it does. It literally feels like I was watching him say his first words just the other day." I paused and Jake put the rest of the stuff in the bag for me.

"He'll be okay." Jake promised.

I sighed and turned back around. I smiled at Jake.

"Yeah, I guess he will. He's a good kid." I winced. "Well, not really a kid anymore, I guess…" It is so bizarre not being able to call my son a kid.

Jake was about to reply when a scream sounded throughout the house.

"YOU FREAKING HORSE! DON'T CALL MY BLANKIE NOT COMFY!"

"You created a monster." Jake snickered.

"Oops."

* * *

**COLE'S POV: **

I'm starting to think one of the worst damn ways to be woken up in the morning is by someone holding down your doorbell for an hour.

Emily had her pretty hands over her ears and she glared toward the front door. The blanket was at her waist and her T-shirt was all twisted up so I could see her stomach and shoulder. She was so beautiful it hurt.

"Who the hell could it be?" I screamed over the doorbell.

"Who else would hold the doorbell that long? It's either my dad or your mom. Either way we're basically screwed!" She yelled back. This is bad. Very, very bad.

I slipped out of the bed. "Let's peek and see who it is. Maybe it's just a telemarketer on crack or something."

We quietly walked into the living room and through the kitchen area. I peeked out of the peep hole. Shit. My parents and sisters were standing in the hallway. Mom looked annoyed. Why didn't they call first?!

"My parents. What do we do? I wonder if they saw your car…oh God we have to put away all your stuff!" I exclaimed.

We raced around the apartment, grabbing everything of Emily's that we saw. We shoved it all in the drawers her clothes were in.

"CADEN COLE RYAN I KNOW YOU'RE THERE AND IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT THIS MINUTE I'LL...WELL, LET'S JUST SAY YOU'LL REGRET IT!"

"What do I do?!" Emily hissed. We both looked around.

"Umm…shower! Hide in the shower!" I yelled. "I'll send them away!"

Emily hurried into the bathroom. She started to close the door but then opened it.

"Why don't we just say I'm visiting?!" She whispered.

"Because you're in pajamas and we have no time for you to change!"

She retreated back into the bathroom and I exhaled. I nervously scanned the apartment as I walked back toward the door. They can't make her move out. They can't. But I still felt really nervous.

I opened the door and worked to look like I just woke up. They walked right in, ignoring my protests.

Adeline and Odette attacked me with hugs and kisses. I watched my mom suspiciously circle the kitchen. Oh no.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked my dad. He opened my refrigerator and then closed it. He turned around.

"Your mother and I are going to do something alone today and you're going to watch the twins." He replied.

Um, what? I love how no one even asked me if I would! They aren't allowed to do something together! They had the kids and now they are going to spend every minute with them!

"I didn't say I—"

"I know. But we gave you life, so you really don't have much of a choice." He grinned.

I sighed and watched as Odette and Adeline jumped on the couch. They looked really hyper. Great.

"I can't watch them! I don't know how to cook or—"

Mom appeared. She set this giant lunchbox on the counter and smiled.

"There's sandwiches for lunch." She reached into her pocket and handed me a hundred. "And here's for dinner. You can either take them to a restaurant or order in."

I gaped. What I really wanted to scream was that this was me and Emily's day off! I wanted to spend it with her. Not with her hiding in the bathroom and me trying to tame two hyper four-almost-five year olds.

Dad went to the couch and sat with Odette and Adeline, probably going over rules that they wouldn't listen to anyway. I watched my mother pick up various things in the pantry. I let her creepily stalk my apartment until she picked up a blanket off the floor and sniffed it. I pulled it from her grasps.

"Okay, really, Mom? What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Making sure you aren't smoking again. You need to go shopping, Coley. You have no food. Did you deposit that check?"

I pictured the check, still stuck in my wallet where Emily had forced it earlier.

"Sure." I lied. She rolled her eyes.

"I can easily see if you did. Don't lie to me. You will deposit it. I promise you." She threatened. She walked toward the living room. "Well, we'll leave right after I use your bathroom. Where is it?"

Fuck.

I hurried to block off the little hallway she was trying to walk down.

"Um…it's broken. I'm in the process of fixing it…but you definitely don't want to use it." I rushed the words out a little too fast and I could tell my dad knew I was lying. It's hard to fool an actor.

"What's wrong with it?" Mom asked.

I scrambled to think of something. I couldn't even think of the names of the parts on a toilet.

"Pipe and sewage issue." Dad said suddenly. Oh thank Jesus. "He asked me about it earlier and he said he could fix it. How is it going?" He directed the question at me.

I exhaled in relief. "Much better than it was before. Mom, there's a really clean bathroom in that gas station right down the road. You have to buy something to use it but you can just get a bottled water or Advil or something."

She sighed. "Okay. But I want you to use some of your birthday money to get everything in this apartment fixed! Or hire a lawyer to sue the landlord for not fixing it!"

I nodded. "Of course, mommy."

She softened at the name and hugged me tightly.

"We'll be back soon. I'll call when we're on our way home. Watch over yourself and my girls. You might want to invite Emily over to help you with them…they had sugar this morning. Sorry. Thanks, Coley."

"Anytime." I lied. She hugged me again before going over to say bye to the twins. Dad stared at me.

"Explain." He ordered.

"Um…I'm really Spiderman and my costume is in there?" I tried. He didn't smile.

"I…have a mountain of laundry piled up that is ready to fall down on whoever opens the door?" I tried again.

"That one is more believable, but I don't think that's it." He muttered. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mom was out of hearing distance. "Whatever is in there, don't make a mistake. I don't want to have to be a grandfather before I even have a daughter-in-law." He leaned closer to the door.

"Bye, Emily." He called.

There was a pause.

"Bye, Jake!" She muttered guiltily.

My face must have shown my nervousness because he grinned.

"Calm down. I won't tell your mom unless she asks. Just remember one thing: the first time your mother and I slept together she got pregnant with you. Don't be a dumbass." He finished his sentence with a glare. I really didn't need to hear about when they conceived me. I realized he thought we were just sleeping together, not that we were living together. Interesting. I should probably correct him.

"Got it, Dad! No dumbasses here! Thanks for the talk and for helping before. You and Mom have fun. Bye!"

I should, but won't. I'd rather nobody know we're living together just yet. Of course…if Oliver finds out that we're "having sex"…but surely my dad won't tell him? And technically I'm not lying to my dad because Emily and I are sleeping together…just not in the sexual sense of it.

Once my parents were gone, I felt two pairs of eyes on me.

"WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY, DUMB HEAD?!" Odette screamed. I winced.

"Well, first of all, we're going to use our inside voices." I said gently.

"Daddy says inside voices are for loser actors who can't project their voices on stage." Odette argued. Adeline smiled at me. She was always the sweetest.

"C, can we invite Emily over?" Adeline asked.

An idea sparked in my mind. I smiled.

"Actually, do you two want to see a magic trick?!" I exclaimed. Adeline grinned and nodded.

"YEAH! THAT'S BETTER, DUMB HEAD!" Odette screeched. I put my hands behind my back and when I was sure they weren't watching, I knocked loudly on the wall behind me. They looked to the door. I walked over to the front door and peered out at the empty hallway.

"It's Emily!" I called.

"YAY!" Adeline rejoiced.

I walked away from the door. Odette looked bored.

"Aren't you gonna let her in?" She demanded.

"Sure I am! I'm going to let her in…with magic!" I whispered. I walked slowly over to the bathroom door.

"Are you ready?" I asked them in a mysterious voice. Adeline nodded vigorously. Odette shrugged, but I could tell she was excited. I touched the wood of the door. "Abracadabra!" I whispered.

I opened the door, and Emily came walking out.

Both the girl's eyes were as wide as the moon.

Odette dropped her blanket.

"EMILY!" Adeline screamed. She jumped off the couch and ran into Emily's arms. Odette was still gaping.

"How did you do that?!" She demanded. I noticed the lack of "dumb head" at the end of the sentence. Maybe I made her respect me. She continued. "That was pretty cool, dumb head."

Damn.

She walked over and glared at me until I kneeled down. She hugged me. Maybe she isn't that evil. She has my hair so she can't be that bad.

I looked up at Emily's laugh. She was sitting on the couch with Adeline, and they both looked so happy. I smiled.

Odette sighed. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the couch.

"Stop staring, dumb head. Come on."

I sat beside Emily on the couch. Odette allowed Emily to put her hair in pig tails and I was content sitting with my arm around Em. Adeline was lying on the floor with her stuffed unicorn, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression.

"Hey girls?" I said. All three of them looked at me. I bit back a laugh and kissed Emily. "Not you. The little girls." She blushed and went back to Odette's hair. I thought she was putting it in pig tails but now it looked like she was French braiding it or something. I continued. "You two better not tell mommy and daddy about my magic trick. If you do, then all the magic will go far, far away."

They nodded seriously, believing every word I was telling them. Adeline stared at her unicorn's horn and stroked his fur. She looked at me with questioning eyes.

"How did the magic get here?"

I blinked. Emily bit her coral lip.

"Yeah, C-dizzle. Tell them how the magic got here." She choked out, a smile perfecting her already beautiful face. I discretely pushed a hand under her shirt. She jumped a little and I poked her stomach. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Well…the magic has always been here." I answered. Odette turned her head and looked at me.

"What is 'The Magic'?" She asked.

"Yeah!" Adeline seconded the question. I felt guilty telling them lies because they were drinking it all in.

"It's…umm…well, The Magic is…love and trust and honestly." I finally said. If I was going to lie I might as well lie about things that might teach them to be good people. "When you love, trust, and are honest with someone…you can do anything magical you want. I love Emily, so I was able to turn the bathroom into the hallway and lead her in here that way."

Adeline grinned so widely and happily that I felt bad. She loved all things that involved magical creatures and princesses in tall towers and princes riding white horses, and I just told her magic was real. Great. This is why I maybe shouldn't ever be a father.

"So just by loving and being a good person you can make magic happen?!" She breathed, her green eyes wide and enchanted.

"SO IF I PRETEND TO LOVE AND TRUST SPINACH I CAN MAKE IT TURN INTO MARSHMELLOWS?!" Odette yelled.

"No…it doesn't work that way. It only works with people and it only happens sometimes. And if you ever do anything bad like hurting another person on purpose you lose your magical powers forever and ever."

Odette promptly burst into tears. Emily hugged her.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I hit Adeline the other day! I'm never gonna have my magic powers!" She sobbed. She slid off Emily's lap and wrapped her short arms around her twin.

"I'm so sorry, Addie! I love you!"

"I love you too!" Adeline said happily. Emily and I caught eyes and we quickly looked away to keep from laughing.

They sat on the floor together and stared up at me, waiting for more of the story.

"So who made The Magic?" Odette prodded.

"Um…one of God's best friends from college. He…was chatting with God while they were bowling and mentioned that the people who did the right things and loved people should have their lives be a little bit easier on Earth. So, The Magic was created!" Please forgive me, Jesus. You're still my homeboy.

Odette stood up. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna love EVERYONE now. Even Abby's gross neighbor Ben."

"Just don't love him too much." I mumbled. Emily laughed quietly.

"Do you guys want to play hide and seek?" I asked, trying to find something to pass the time. "Or…watch a movie?"

"Let's play pretend!" Adeline exclaimed.

"YEAH! I'LL GET THE BARBIES!" Odette screamed. She walked over to the chair and grabbed her backpack off it.

Barbies? Oh no.

Emily pulled me on the floor beside her and I sighed heavily. I watched in mortification as Odette shoved a toddler Barbie in my hand. Seriously? I don't even get to pretend to be Ken? …How do I even know this name? I'm going to shoot myself.

"Maybe Cole should be Ken." Emily suggested cautiously.

"There is NO Ken here. It's Princess Dandelion, Prince Midnight, Natalie, and Baby Victoria." Adeline corrected.

"Let me guess, Natalie is Odette's character?" I asked. Odette nodded happily and grabbed a Barbie.

"Well maybe Cole should play with Prince Midnight." Emily reworded her statement. The twins looked at each other and then nodded. The toddler—who I guessed was "Baby Victoria"—was pulled from my hands and a half naked Ken was put in it.

"Um…where are Prince Midnight's pants?" I asked. Emily let out a peal of laughter and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

"Prince Midnight didn't feed Baby Victoria so I, Princess Dandelion, put Natalie in charge of his punishment." Adeline said.

"And I took all his pants away." Odette continued.

Okay…

"That's a very…creative punishment." I muttered. Odette beamed.

"It's worked too. He's been better. Now don't play him wrong." She threatened.

"There once was a girl named Princess Dandelion and she was the beautifulest princess in the whole planet!" Adeline exclaimed. She made her Barbie walk across the floor towards the Ken doll I was holding. "She had a handsome prince named Prince Midnight. He was called that because he always rode his horses right at midnight! They had a little baby named Baby Victoria that was evil."

Emily burst into laughter. I followed I suit and both the twins looked at us like we were idiots. We quickly stopped laughing. Emily made Baby Victoria walk toward everyone else.

"Baby Victoria bit people a lot, and she threw food. And didn't love her mommies and daddy too."

"Mommies?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna tell you!" Adeline promised. She continued her story.

"Princess Dandelion had a sister named Natalie who took care of Baby Victoria too. Prince Midnight could never pick between which girl he wanted so he had them both. Prince Midnight used to love Natalie but then he found Princess Dandelion who was very weird and pretty. He married them both at McDonald's. Baby Victoria wanted to be queen of the world so she thought up ways to kill off her mommies and daddy."

"This is a very twisted story," I muttered to Emily. She nodded. I bet Odette made most of it up. This has her name written all over it.

Adeline made her Barbie walk closer to Ken.

"Prince Midnight, what did you get me for my birthday?" She asked.

I glanced at Emily, unsure of how to play this game.

"Um…I got you…the whole world!" I exclaimed. Princess Dandelion spastically jumped up and down.

"YAY!! IT'S WHAT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED!" She yelled. She snatched Ken out of my hands and threw the two Barbies a few feet away.

"They are talking now." She informed us.

Odette made her Barbie appear to be walking in circles. She turned her Barbie suddenly and marched it up to the toddler Barbie.

"THERE YOU ARE! I WAS LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU!"

Emily hesitated. She made her voice babyish sounding. "Sorry, mommy. I was…cleaning."

"NO! WEREN'T YOU LISTENING TO THE STORY?! BABY VICTORIA IS EVIL!" Odette screamed.

Emily jumped in fright. "Sorry, sorry! Let's start over!"

Odette sighed. She redid the previous situation.

Emily lowered her voice.

"You can keep looking because I don't want to see you!"

"Wow, Em, I didn't know you could play the part of a psychotic five year old that well!" I whispered. She dug her elbow in my ribs.

"WELL TOO BAD YOU FREAKING HORSE!" Odette screamed. I jumped. What the hell?! Vicious little kid. Maybe she's the real evil, psychotic five year old.

"Wait." Emily said. We all looked at her. "Maybe Baby Victoria wants to kill her mommies and daddy because they are so mean to her! You can't just call your kid a 'freaking horse'!"

"No. She wants to kill them because she's evil!" Adeline explained patiently.

Odette shoved her Barbie in my face.

"PRINCE MIDNIGHT! WHERE ARE YOU?! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

I winced. I don't think I want to play this anymore.

I crawled over to where the two Barbies were. I grabbed Prince Midnight and Princess Dandelion.

"NO! JUST PRINCE MIDNIGHT!" Odette yelled.

I quickly dropped Princess Dandelion. I moved back to my spot with Prince Midnight.

"I'm right here!" I made Prince Midnight say.

"About time." Odette made Natalie complain.

The game continued until lunch. By the time we were sitting on the floor with our sandwiches (there was only one chair at the table), I had red marks that were bound to turn into bruises from the many times a Barbie was tossed at me.

Adeline even ate with her stuffed unicorn (who was called Prince Corey, respectively). She made me cut her sandwich into tiny pieces and she ate it that way. Odette ate it normally. Emily picked at her sandwich, not really eating it. My mom must have known she was coming over because the extra sandwich was Emily's favorite. Emily didn't seem too enthusiastic about eating it though.

My sandwich was actually good. It made up for the pain I was in. Odette and Adeline were spastic when they played Barbies and whenever they wanted to express that the Barbie went somewhere, they threw it.

At me.

"Want to play more Barbies?!" Adeline asked, once we were all finished eating. Emily and I quickly shook our heads.

"Why don't we watch a movie?" I suggested.

"No I don't want to." Odette shook her head.

"Emily! Can we do your makeover?" Adeline asked, her green eyes widened innocently as she pleaded. Emily hesitated, glancing at me. I nodded to try and tell her they probably wouldn't kill her.

"Okay." She agreed. She went into the bathroom and pulled out the makeup she had (it was all heavy makeup too because it was her stage makeup for dance) and a brush with rubber bands on the handle.

"Pull this over here for me!" Adeline begged, pointing at the bean bag chair. I carried it to where she was pointing to (the middle of the living room) and sat it down. Odette led Emily to it. Emily sat down apprehensively.

"I'll do her hair! You do her makeup!" Odette ordered. Adeline nodded and stood in front of Emily. I sat down and grinned. This was going to be interesting.

"Don't get too happy over there, Cole. You're going next." Emily smiled sweetly. My smile evaporated.

Odette pulled the brush through Emily's curls and Adeline was trying to figure out how to open the bright red lipstick. Emily helped her open it and Adeline's tiny hand grasped the tube. She messily applied it to Emily's lips. Adeline pulled out bright blue eyeshadow next.

"I'm going to look like a hooker." Emily laughed.

"What's a hooker?" Adeline asked in confusion.

"A fisherman." I called. Adeline nodded.

"Well you're gonna be a beautiful fisherman!" She exclaimed.

"Oh yay!" Emily tried to sound enthusiastic.

Ten minutes later, they were done. Emily offered me a smile and I smiled back. She looked interestingly beautiful. Her brown eyes were surrounded by electric blue eyeshadow and her cheeks had an insane amount of light pink blush (I didn't like it, her natural blush was prettier). Her lips were bright red and her hair was pulled back in a half ponytail thing that was very messy. I stood up and motioned for her to spin around. She glared at me but complied. I smiled.

"You look _gorgeous_."

Adeline and Odette smiled happily. Suddenly, they both had one of my hands.

"Your turn, dumb head!" Odette exclaimed.

No. No! No way!

I shook my head and stayed planted firmly in my spot. "No way!" I argued.

Emily placed her hands on my back and pushed me forward.

"If I had to you do too!"

"But you're a girl!" I argued. I finally allowed them to push me in the beanbag chair to keep them from hurting themselves.

"Fine. But all you can do is my hair." I insisted.

Adeline sniffed. Her eyes glazed over with tears. "But what do I do then?"

Dammit. Not the tears.

"Um…you can each do one side of my hair." I suggested.

They shook their heads in perfect sync and sat down beside me on the beanbag chair. They sighed.

"Hey, girls?! Want to have a party?!" Emily suggested.

They both jumped up so fast I got smacked in the cheek by an arm.

"YES!!!" They yelled.

Emily walked over to the CD player and picked a CD. I moved the beanbag chair on the couch and pushed all the furniture out of the way. Fast music started, and Emily took Odette's hands. Adeline grabbed mine.

"Dance with me, C!" She demanded. Emily and Odette twirled around the living room gracefully while Adeline and I stumbled a lot due to our laughter. The sun set with the twins laughing happily and Emily managing to still look drop-dead gorgeous with the makeup all over her face. It was a good day.

We ordered Chinese food and watched an unhealthy amount of Dora the Explorer episodes. The twins fell asleep on the beanbag chair and I draped a blanket over them.

Emily and I walked out on the balcony. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her.

"Thanks for the help today." I whispered.

She grinned and looked at me. The moonlight highlighted her beautiful, clean face (she had wiped most the makeup off before dinner). I stared at the silver light on her curls and lips and cheekbones and decided that this was magic.

"It was fun. They are precious. And you know what else?"

I shook my head, drunk on the moonlight and her beauty and our love.

"You're great with them." She answered.

I smiled to myself. I turned to her.

"I love you. You are the most beautiful and magical woman I have ever known." I said honestly, because love and trust and honesty were what made the magic, and the magic was our love.

She blushed raspberry, a color that suited her better than that bright pink.

"Do you remember when we were thirteen and you accidentally sent me a text you meant to send to someone else?" She asked. Somehow I could tell my answer meant a lot to her. I struggled to remember, but I couldn't grasp the memory.

"I don't think so. Why?" I replied. She grinned and looked down at my hands. She threaded her fingers through mine and seemed embarrassed to say something.

"You'll think I'm pathetic." She whispered.

I studied her, trying to understand what she was getting at.

"No I won't." I promised. She kept her gaze on our joined hands.

"When I got the text I thought it was to me and I was so excited. I thought you really wanted to talk to me. I spent a long time trying to think up a good response and then you sent the text saying you meant to send it to someone else." She fell quiet and I listened to our breathing. She continued, her voice softer this time. "I suppose it's very silly, but I cried for a while. About two hours actually." She finally looked up from her studious studying of our hands. She smiled lightly and brushed my cheek with her soft hand. "It's just, it really got my hopes up. I spent my whole life just waiting for you to love me back. I used to tell myself to just give you up. I tried to convince my heart that we were never, ever going to be together because you didn't like me, much less love me. But there was just something about you that I couldn't give up. And sometimes I feel like maybe this is all a dream and I'll wake up and you won't care for me anymore. It doesn't make much sense to me that out of all those beautiful girls you would pick me." She smiled sadly again and I didn't know how to respond. I wished she could see what I saw when I looked at her and I wished she knew just how much I needed her. I would paint a million pictures of what I saw when I was with her if it would convince her I wasn't going anywhere. I saw her and I saw me and I saw us. I saw white gowns and red roses and bare skin. And sometimes I even saw miniature versions of us, all of them with Emily's beautiful eyes.

Instead, I placed a hand on the back of her head and kissed her slowly enough for her to understand everything that I was feeling. When I finally pulled away, we were gasping for air and she looked at me like she was unsure if I was really there.

"You are the only one and will always be the only one, even if you decide you don't love me anymore." I promised her. I grinned suddenly. "And if this was a dream, I'd be naked."

Her sadness disappeared from her eyes and she laughed loudly.

"Yes, of course. But how did you find out about my erotic dreams about you, baby?" She teased in a seductive voice. I wrapped an arm around her.

"Oh, I just had a feeling."

"Hmm…this feeling couldn't be coming from the enlarged ego you inherited, could it?" She asked.

"Never." I argued.

I stared at her for a moment before I realized she still had a little foundation on her nose. I smoothed my thumb over the bridge of her nose, smudging the makeup off until I could see her freckles. I liked it better that way.

She sighed heavily when she realized what I was doing, and she pressed her face on my chest.

"What?" I asked, bewildered by her reaction.

"I just wish…" She stopped. She stared her sentence again after a pause. "Sometimes I feel like I don't want to be a dancer. Sometimes I feel like the only thing I want to be is yours."

She kept her face hidden as if she were embarrassed by her statement.

"You can be both." I assured her.

She lifted her head a little.

"Can I?"


	4. Mothers

**A/n:** So, so, so sorry for the wait! I started school and I have AP shit going on and all that. Blah. Anyway, I'm about to literally fall asleep on this keyboard. Hope you like the chapter and if you do, holla! ...oh my God. Um. I never said that. I should erase that but the backspace button is too far away. Okay bye :D thanks for the reviews last chapter. Okay really going now :D Blame daisy617 for any typos

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**"Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, so mothers be good to your daughters too." -- John Mayer, "Daughters". **

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I stared at her and a question suddenly forced itself into my mind. It entered my mind so quickly that I almost blurted it out. I caught it at the last moment and shoved it back into my head, where it never should have been in the first place.

Emily looked confused. "What?" She asked.

I shook my head. "I was just going to say you're beautiful." I smiled. She smiled lightly and her cell phone started ringing from inside the apartment.

"Uh oh, that's probably your mom. I better get that before it wakes the girls up." She squeezed my hand and slipped back inside. I stared out at the moon and my forbidden question slipped out.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

"Emily! What a surprise!"

I could tell the minute my mom walked in the door that my dad had told her. I glared at him and he guiltily smiled. My mom smiled at her daughters and hugged Emily. She moved forward and hugged me.

"Nice try." She whispered.

When she pulled back, her face showed her disapproval for a moment before she hid it behind a smile.

Great. Just great. Nosey freaking parents.

I motioned for my Dad to walk over to where I was. I moved so we were out of earshot of everyone else.

"Why did you tell her?" I hissed. He ran a hand through his hair and nervously laughed.

"It's not my fault! I told you I wouldn't tell unless she asked, and she did! She said she knew something was up because I know less about toilets than you do. But you know what else? She thinks you two are living together!" He laughed nervously again. "She said it smells good here and your forks are between the knives and butter knives which is the way it is at Oliver's house."

Damn psycho woman. Who observes the way silverware is organized at each house? Now what do I do? Lie? Admit to it? So many choices…

"She also thinks you two ran off to Vegas and got married without telling anyone." He continued.

I had to laugh at that. Ever since Lilly and my uncle ran off and got married, Mom's been paranoid that I'll do it and she won't be able to see me get married. I would never do it just for the reason that she would murder me. When Oliver and Claire were married, my mother made the point of dragging Emily along with her and Claire through every part of it, probably hoping to get her set on having her own fancy wedding. I didn't know how, but Emily actually had fun when they all went dress shopping and cake tasting and all that. I will never understand how Emily can be friends with so many people of so many different age groups. I just hoped her and my mother were the kind of friends that could laugh together but definitely didn't spill their secrets to each other over the phone. That would be really awkward…I can just imagine Emily ranting to my mother about our conflicting ideas on sex…SCARY THOUGHTS. SCARY THOUGHTS. There are many things in this world that a mother shouldn't know about her son and his girlfriend, and that is definitely one of them. I wish I could say Oliver and I had a bonding moment where he agreed to let me date his daughter happily, but the only words Oliver and I exchanged were of the stiff and uncomfortable type. It had gotten better since Emily moved out, but it was so bad when she still lived there. This was a typical exchange between me and Oliver when Emily lived at home:

Me: Hi Oliver.

Oliver: Hi.

Me: Is Emily home?

Oliver: ….

Me: (louder) Is Emily home?

Oliver: (coughs)

Me: Okay then. (starts walking towards her bedroom)

Oliver: (jumps up) JUST WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING KID?

Me: To impregnate your daughter.

Oliver: ARGGGGGGG (lunges)

This exchange ended with three outcomes. One: Oliver shoves me against the wall and I shove him back and Emily comes running out of her bedroom, wondering what the hell is going on. Two: I dodge Oliver and slip into Emily's bedroom, slamming the door in his face. Three: Emily comes out of her room and hurriedly calms her raging father.

Unfortunately, number one happened most frequently.

But luckily, Emily moved out of her dad's house as soon as she graduated high school. This had less to do with her wanting to be independent and more to do with the fact Lila was now her stepsister. She explained to me that sharing a room with a girl who once carried her boyfriend's child was increasingly awkward. It didn't help that Lila's favorite question to ask Emily was if I was still good in bed (psh, like I wouldn't be…I don't know who the hell Lila even thinks she is…and good is an understatement). Lila attends a community college part time and lives at home. She got kicked out of the Catholic boarding school for "promiscuous and horrifyingly immoral and repugnant behavior".

"We didn't get married." I assured Dad. But I found myself thinking about the idea and what that would mean. If we were married…our parents couldn't freak out about us living together. We would get to live together forever. Plus, guys wouldn't be able to flirt with Emily when they saw her ring. And then there's the honeymoon…

"So you ARE living together?" He asked in surprise. As much as I dreaded having to finally answer this one way or the other, I was glad he interrupted my dangerous chain of thought. I chanted the reason in my head: _you're only nineteen, you're only nineteen…_

"Ummm…"

A hand grasped around my elbow. I turned my head and my mother had a tight grip on my arm.

"I want to have a talk with you." She smiled innocently but I knew that look. Emily was nervously biting her lip and pulling at the hem of her shirt. What did she tell my mom?

"Can't this wait, Mom? I'm really tired…." I faked a yawn.

"OH COME ON! You're Jake Ryan's son! You can do better than that!" Dad clapped my shoulder in encouragement. I glared. He retreated slowly, muttering something about putting the twins in the car.

"I'd rather we talked now." Her voice was sweet as sugar but since I've known her for, oh, about nineteen years, I could detect the worry and disapproval lurking under the kind tones.

From across the room, Emily faked a yawn even worse than mine. She made a point to stretch.

"Wow, I'm exhausted! I better head home before it gets too late…" She trailed off hopefully, probably trying to salvage our charade. She inched towards the door.

"Stop." Mom commanded. Emily halted instantly.

"Sit." She ordered again.

Emily and I walked over to the couch and sank, avoiding each other's eyes in fear of bursting out with laughter. Whenever we got in trouble together as kids we would meet eyes and immediately burst into laughter, which always earned us more punishments.

Mom stood in front of us, her hands on her hips and her mouth set in a straight line. There was a heavy and awkward pause before she spoke.

"When did you do it?"

At first I thought she meant when we had sex. I gaped at her, unable to believe she would ask something like that.

"MOM! DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT'S AN APPROPRIATE QUESTION?!"

"Son, get your head out of the gutter. I mean when you eloped." Mom rolled her eyes. She laughed suddenly. "You are so much like you're father." Eloped…oh. I remember now. That's what the crazy woman decided upon.

"Eloped?!" Emily's eyes widened as she stared at my mom.

"We got eloped?" I turned to Emily. "Emily, did you know we're married?"

She grinned. "No, I did not know that, Cole. I hope it was a good ceremony."

I smiled back; her smile was infectious. "Yes, I also hope it was—"

"Okay, I get it! You didn't get married!" Mom interrupted, looking thoroughly annoyed. Her eyes narrowed and she stared at us for a long time.

"But something is up." She tilted her head to the right, observing Emily closely. There was a pause. "Are you pregnant?" She asked. Her voice wasn't angry, it wasn't fearful. It was void of all emotion and very quiet, as if she were politely disinterested in the answer. But I could tell she was practically about to wring her neck from the suspense.

"What?! No! No!" Emily hurriedly exclaimed, flushing raspberry at the accusation. My mom seemed to deflate in relief. She let out a long gust of air.

"Good."

Emily stood up.

"Well, I really—"

"I'm not done."

Emily fell back down beside me.

My mom sat down on the beanbag chair and for a moment the scene made me want to laugh. She was sitting crossed legged on the beanbag chair like a child, preparing to scold her adult son and his girlfriend. No wonder I turned out so messed up…

"I need to have a serious conversation with you two and even though it may get awkward, I want you to take what I say seriously. Deal?" Her voice still had that detached tone to it. It was a tone I had heard before but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I nodded and Emily murmured 'yes'. It was easier to endure this with Emily beside me. I could smell her hair and it gave me courage.

My mom rested her elbows on her legs and set her chin in her upturned hands. She was silent for a few moments.

"Every parent wants their child to have a better life than them, right?"

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to answer this or not. Emily stayed silent, probably running the same questions through her own mind. My mother continued.

"You both are going to make mistakes. Some will be life altering and some won't even make a difference in the long run. You may make the same mistakes your parents have made, or you may make different ones. I can't see into the future to see what kind of mistakes you two will make. I can only preach to you not to make the same ones we—meaning me, Jake, Oliver, and Lydia—made. Cole, you were never a mistake. I don't regret having you for a minute of my life. But I wouldn't wish that situation onto you for anything. You two are so young! You don't really realize right now that there is a world beyond each other. You have so much life to live, so many lessons to learn, so many tears to cry, before you are ready to settle down with someone. How can you give each other yourselves until you realize who you really are? I don't want you two to rush into something only for it to end in heartbreak. I also don't want you two to get yourselves cornered." Nearing the end of her speech, her voice lost its flat tones and took on the familiar, concerned tone.

Emily and I were silent. I wasn't sure exactly what to say. A world beyond Emily? But I had never had a life beyond her. Ever. From the day I was born to this current day she was there.

"Is there a life for you beyond Jake?" Emily asked suddenly.

Mom faltered.

"No," She finally answered.

"You two got married two years younger than us. By our age you were married and had a baby." Emily continued. "Do you regret doing that? Do you think maybe you would have "found yourself" better if you wouldn't have married Jake or had Cole?"

I could tell my mother's speak had bothered Emily. I tried to think about what might have injured her so much, but I couldn't find something.

"Of course not."

"Do you think Cole and I don't really love each other as much as you and Jake do?" She demanded. I wasn't sure what was surprising me more: the way Emily was being or the way my mom looked like she could cry.

"I…well…you two are so young…you haven't fully…discovered each other." Mom struggled, her voice taking on a shaky tone. What was upsetting her so much? WHY DO WOMEN HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING CONFUSING?!

"I really love your son, Miley." Emily whispered. "I always have and you've always known it. And if we decide to get married, it will be because we knew it was the right thing. I don't think there is a life beyond Cole if I'm being honest. Call me naïve, maybe I am. But this just doesn't seem very…temporary."

I swear everyone in this room must be PMSing (minus me, of course).

"I see a lot of Jake and I in you two." My mom finally forced the words out. Watching her swallow the tears and struggle to find the right words was painful. "I don't want you two on the same path as us. I do _not _want you having to go through all the things we have had to go through. You don't understand, you don't know what it is like. I just think that if you take things very slow, if you maybe wait until your late twenties to get married, if you…" She stopped suddenly. She stared at the wall, the same painful expression on her face.

"Mom," I said gently. She tore her gaze from the dull wall and met my eyes. "We don't have a murderer after us. The same things won't happen. We are responsible. We'll make the choices right for us." She nodded and smiled at us. I took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. "Oh, and we're living together, in case you didn't know."

Emily snapped her head to look at me. She had that familiar my-daddy-is-going-to-behead-you-with-a-blunt-object look on her face.

"I know. You put your forks between the knives and butter knives." Mom replied. She stood up from the beanbag chair and gave us both hugs. I decided to write off her outbursts as emotion build up over me moving out and Emily's as self defense. I'd given up trying to understand women a long time ago.

She walked over to her purse and it was almost as if I were psychic when she pulled out her wallet. I knew what was coming.

"Now, let me just pay you for the fine babysitting job you did…" She reached into the wallet and pulled out a massive bound stack of what looked like a hundred dollar bills. Oh my God.

"Here's the ten thousand dollars. Since you obviously aren't going to deposit, I did it for you. You can just shred that check up." She shoved the bills into my hand. That was _definitely_ more than ten thousand dollars. There were at least five hundred bills in my hand. It was a very heavy stack of money. All the bills were crisp and straight.

"This is more than ten thousand dollars. How much is here?" I glared at the offending money.

She paused long enough for me to know it was the original amount of the check. One hundred thousand dollars. She is insane!

"I'm not taking this, Mom! I refuse!" I shoved the money at her. She wouldn't take it. I was positive that I wasn't going to take the money.

Until she broke down into sobs.

I froze, my arms outstretched and shoving the money away from me. She buried her face in her hands and for a moment she looked exactly as she looked the day she realized what happened with Lila and me.

"P-Please, take it!" She cried. "It's the least I can do, dammit! If you love me you won't live like _this!_" She motioned at my apartment. "Please! I can't do anything else for you; just let me be your mother a little bit longer! Let me feel like you need me and take the money! Your dad and I don't need it, but you do! Especially now that you and Emily are living together! Her dance check and your art check aren't taking care of you two! _Please_! Just think of it this way: that would be the amount I'd have spent on college if you would have gone. Just please take it. Please."

I gapped. How the hell could I not take it now?! She evil. She did this on purpose. If I didn't take it that made me pure evil. But I don't want to take it! I don't want her money! I want…I don't even know what want anymore. Emily is the only thing I know I want. I don't know if I want to be an artist anymore, I don't know if I want to stay in California, I don't know anything but Emily.

I reluctantly set the money on the counter. My mother's tears mysteriously disappeared and her face broke out in a bright smile. She hugged me tightly.

"Thank you, Coley! Now, I want you to get some food and fix your air conditioner! It feels like a sauna in here! Also, you might want to invest in a shotgun, because when Oliver finds out you're living together he's going to try and kill you." She said cheerfully.

"DON'T TELL HIM!" Emily begged, hysteria overtaking her.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about it for a few months. He's got two new people to deal with. If only both were as equally pleasing to have around."

What the hell?

"What?" Emily asked. Her nose and eyes scrunched up in confusion.

"What in the world are you talking about, Mom?" I asked.

She appeared grim. "Oh, don't worry, you'll see soon. Oliver can only contain _it_ for a few more hours."

She smiled and ignored our constant questions.

"Goodnight you two! Use a condom! See you at lunch tomorrow!"

She slipped out of the door and shut it behind her. Our questions stopped suddenly.

"I hope everything is okay," Emily muttered, her voice laced with fear and apprehension. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket.

"I'm going to call my dad…"

She slipped into the bedroom. I stared at the money on the counter. It almost seemed to be evil. Why couldn't I just have parents who think making your own money is character building? I guess my parents don't care about character. I sighed heavily and grabbed the money. I walked to the doorway and knocked lightly on the door. Emily opened it, looking even more worried.

"No answer. My dad has _never _missed my call…" She stared at her phone, willing a call to come. I leaned into the doorway and set the money on the dresser beside the door. It was colder in the room and it smelled like laundry detergent and Emily's shampoo. I leaned out and hugged Emily. She turned the hug from something temporary to something permanent and we molded together in a way that made me wonder if we would ever be different people again. For that one solid moment, with my face resting in her dark curls and her hands on my back, it was impossible to believe that we were ever happy, that we were ever comfortable, without this.

As Oliver tended to enjoy doing, he interrupted. Emily's phone rang loudly and she slowly pulled back to put the phone to her ear.

"Is everything okay, daddy? Miley said—" She fell silent as he started talking. I could hear his voice but I couldn't make out what he was saying. "Oh…okay then. Yeah. I love you too. Mmhmm. See you then. Night."

She pulled the phone away from her ear and ended the call. She grimaced.

"I think I interrupted…something with him and Claire. He sounded all…occupied. But he said everything is okay and that he'll see me and 'the boy' at lunch tomorrow. I guess you're 'the boy' now."

"Hell _yeah_! That's a big step up from 'daughter stealing bastard from Hell'!" I exclaimed. Maybe he's starting to accept all this! This is very good news. "Hey, you know what? I bet the 'it' is a new dog!" I said suddenly.

Emily smiled at that. "Do you think so?! Dad did say he missed One Who Looks Like Sugar Cookies the other day…and a St. Bernard is very hard to hide…"

With confirmation her father was okay, and the prospect of a new puppy, Emily seemed a lot happier. We were both tired so we got ready for bed. The strangest thing happened though. When I was finished showering, I pulled a new pair of boxers on and left the bathroom, and I thought at first glance that Emily was crying. Her back was to me and she was facing the open window. A cool breeze was blowing her hair back and the moonlight set an eerie glow around her head, almost like a halo. Her back kind of shook and I could have sworn I heard sobs. But when I asked what was wrong, she turned around and looked perfectly fine. But I couldn't get the image out of my mind. She had to have been crying. I laid awake long past after she fell asleep trying to decide what would make her cry out towards the night. My last assumption before I fell asleep we was that she was mourning over the following Monday. The end of the weekend is always depressing. My assumption was petty, but it just kind of fit in my mind. I needed to ask her in the morning…

* * *

That morning, we dined like royalty.

It took Emily an hour (in which she called my mother and they both gave me a long lecture on accepting gifts like a polite man) to convince me to use some of the money, but once I did, I can honestly say I didn't regret it. Who would have known that breakfast at IHOP tastes just as good if it's not bought with your own money? And I promise you, it was delicious. Probably the best bacon, eggs, and pancakes I've had in my entire life (but I'd never tell my mother that because it'd probably hurt her feelings).

After breakfast, Emily and I reluctantly separated to go to our respectable jobs. Emily's dance academy paid them each time they put on a show, so technically it was a job, even though she was also enrolled as a student.

The first part of the day was long and insufferable. Only one person came in the shop between nine AM and eleven thirty, and it was a woman wondering where she could locate the nearest Starbucks. Steven and I played video games almost the whole time, only stopping to answer the rare phone calls and emails we received. He was kicking my ass, so I was doubly glad when lunch break came.

Of course, I was halfway to my childhood home when my phone rang. I turned down the music and answered, wondering what my mother could have to say that couldn't wait ten more minutes.

"Yes?" I greeted.

"Hi, Coley! Listen, Adeline's sick so we're cancelling lunch today. She's got some sort of stomach bug and—well, let's just say it's not too pleasant here at the moment. But tomorrow you better be here mister! Oliver already told Emily so why don't you two just go out to eat together?" I could hear Adeline crying in the background and my dad's voice as he tried to soothe her. Poor little sister.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Adeline I hope she feels better soon. Bye."

"Love you!" She yelled, probably fearing I'd end the call before she said it. I bit back a laugh.

"Love you too, Mom."

I hung up in case she got all emotional on me again. I turned around and headed back toward the apartment, knowing that's where Emily would be. We were a very antisocial couple and going out to eat once a day was plenty. I knew she'd want to just hang around the apartment until time to go back to work.

My assumption was correct. She hugged me when I walked in the door and again I got that feeling that something was wrong, but I had no proof to back me up.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She looked up from her plate, where she was pushing her food around with a sleepy expression on her face. She smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fine. How was work?"

I told her about my boring day and she listened with interest, asking many questions, and I got the feeling she was only asking them so I didn't ask her how _her _day was. Maybe I was just paranoid because of the talk my mother had had with us.

After lunch, we sat on the couch, I painting and Emily reading. I wasn't really thinking about what the brush was doing as I did. And my hands painted, thinking about Emily, always about Emily, and every now and then me, but only when it was us. I never knew what my hands were creating until the final moment when I came out of the kind of mind set I was in and looked at my painting. There was an element of fear as I painted. This kind of fear was the worst— it was the one that caused the grizzliest phobias. Fear of the unknown. My soul or heart or maybe and plausibly both were creating this and it might turn out to bear a piece of myself that I don't particularly care for. Painting from the soul had opened my eyes to many things, the main being Emily. That first time I painted her, as the sun drifted lazily through the curtains and framed her, there was something in my picture that I didn't understand. It was a beautiful picture of course, but I couldn't take credit for her beauty. No, there was something else. An undercurrent of something. Kind of like when you taste something and can tell there are hints of lemon or basil in it. Underneath her appearance was the way I had felt about her all along. It was the way my hands shook but somehow were steady as I drew her eyes and lips, and the way I knew it would never be as beautiful as it should, but that it would always be the favorite out of everything I lived to paint and draw.

Emily rested her head against my shoulder and sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, crossed at the ankles, her hands holding her book. It was a book Adeline would probably be reading when she was older, full of magic kingdoms and beautiful princesses and evil witches and princes on horseback.

"Is it a good book?" I asked. She pulled her head off my shoulder and met my eyes, shrugging.

"Eh, pretty good, but they have some loser named Sir Arnold who tries way too hard." She sighed.

"Well, not every leading male can live up the expectations you have because of me." I teased. She grinned and pressed a finger into the white paint on the paint pallet sitting in my lap. I caught her hand before she smeared it on my cheek. I guided her finger to the canvas sitting on the easel. I pressed her finger firmly against the painting, over a spot that was red so it showed it.

"I feel like I'm getting fingerprinted for a crime…" She laughed. I released her hand and somehow her fingerprint fit nicely with the rest of the painting. I wasn't really sure what the painting was of. I just kind of painted, not really conscious of what I was doing. Emily kissed me and I held the back of her head. She fell forward on her knees and hovered slightly over me, her upper body pressed against me. I tasted her mouth and it was one of those moments that are quite like painting where I couldn't have told you what time it was or what year or who I was but I could have told you what her perfume smelled like and what the sunshine felt like and how badly I wanted her. Life had gotten to a point where both love and want were physically alive, very much as real as a table or the ground and past the point of just being mere emotions. It was so tangible and solid that I felt I could reach my arm out and touch the love and want. In fact, the love and want were joining forces so quickly I feared they'd quickly overpower my self-control and her fear, but as I skimmed my hand over her stomach, her legs collapsed under her and she fell across my lap, landing into the paint pallet. She laid there for a few long moments in which I breathed heavily and tried to get it a little cooler in this room (because it was extremely hot) and her chest heaved against my thighs as she caught her breath.

She slowly sat up. Her boobs were now multicolored. She stared at the sight for a moment, her cheeks the same color as a color I mixed myself that was now gracing her left boob.

"That's much prettier than my painting." The words slipped out before I could stop them. She flushed deeper and tried to hold the smile off her face.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to be your canvas from now on." She muttered offhandedly, an embarrassed smile lurking just below her neutral facial expression. My heart decided to jog and I laughed, thinking privately to myself that even I couldn't be so lucky and that even if I was, I wouldn't want to ruin an already perfect thing.

"If you say so." I shrugged. I pulled the smeared paint tray off my lap and grabbed a brush, gently sticking it in the blackish purple (the two colors mixed together). I set the tray on the floor and turned to Emily. I grasped her shoulders and leaned forward, gently pushing her down on the couch so she was lying on her back and I was above her. She stared up at me with large, curious eyes that sparkled with deep and light browns and a slight, subtle hint of dark green around the edges. I let my eyes trail downward, over her cheekbones and jaw. I focused them on her smooth neck. I pressed the tip of the brush to her neck, a little above her collarbone. She gasped slightly from the temperature of the paint. I trailed the paintbrush down slowly, watching the purplish line that I was making. She was biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing (I imagine the paintbrush probably tickled). I stopped the paintbrush as it started nearing areas that were already painted. I kissed her neck and sat back up. She laid there for a moment, a thoughtful expression set on her face. She sat up a moment later, her dark brown curls askew and her lips a little redder than usual. She looked at me, just looked at me, and it felt a bit like stepping into a hot tub. I looked back. I looked deep into her eyes, wondering if maybe there was a part of her I hadn't discovered yet. She averted her gaze and stood up from the couch.

"We're going to be late! I have to shower and change!" She leaned down and kissed me and a devilish part of me considered pulling her on my lap and sticking my hands back up her shirt and seeing what happened from there. After all, my hands were pretty practiced with paint. But the respectable part ignored this part and kissed her back quickly and simply. "If I don't see you before I get out of the shower, I love you."

Her voice was thick and I looked back into her eyes. Once again, she looked away. I repeated the sentiment and watched her walk into the bathroom, thinking to myself that maybe I needed to rest so I would stop seeing ghosts where there were none.

I went back to painting instead, completely resolved that I was going to see Emily again before I left. Steven would be okay with me being late…probably. It had been about ten minutes when a knock sounded from the door. I sat there, considering just not answering it at all, but eventually my annoyance overtook my laziness. I pushed the easel out of the way and stood up. I walked to the door and opened it without even checking to see who it was. I just wanted them to leave.

"Yeah?" I asked. I looked up at a woman I didn't know. She had extremely tan skin that had an almost leathery look, probably from laying in the tanning bed too much. She was so skinny it was scary. Her kneecaps were wider than her thighs and I had never seen ankles protrude that far. I was about to ask her what she wanted, when I realized exactly what she wanted. It was so hard to believe, but I could see it; the little parts that made it true. This woman's hair was blonde, frizzy, and split ended and the curls were untamed, probably from straightening it too much as a teenager. Under a thick layer of badly-matched foundation, I could see sunkissed freckles, quite like the ones that graced the nose I kissed for so many years. Her eyes, although not the same shade as the ones I gazed into, were of the same size and shape.

"Is Emily here?" She asked. Her teeth were yellow and her voice hoarse. A smoker. I hesitated with one hand on the doorframe and one on the door, unsure if Emily would even want to see her. Surely she must be curious about her mother, but I had heard her express more hatred for this woman than longing. She continued nervously, trying to kill my long silence. "Your mom told me Emily was here because Oliver wouldn't let me see her. Your parents have changed a lot."

I sighed reluctantly and stepped back, allowing her into the apartment.

"Come in." I muttered. She smiled slightly and entered after me. I shut the door and stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

"Um…do you want something to drink? We have water…and…I think some crackers or something." I said, wishing she would just leave.

"We?" She asked. Oh shit.

"I. I-I have water and crackers…." Lame save. Oh well.

"I'm good." She turned down the offer. She walked into the living room area and sank down on the couch. I awkwardly stood beside the table, unsure whether or not I should strike up a conversation.

"Um…why are you—"

"How have you—"

We started our questions at the same time. We both fell silent quickly. I hesitated, making sure she wasn't about to speak, and I continued.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She pulled at a loose string on her short and holey denim shorts and I felt light headed. Emily did that! Emily pulled on her clothes when she was nervous or upset.

"Trying to be a better person." She finally settled with.

I nodded. I heard the shower turn off.

"So you and Emily are dating?" She asked, trying so hard to strike up a conversation that it was painful.

"Yes. We have been since we were fifteen." I answered.

She smiled a genuine smile. I had to look away. It was a lot like Emily's smile. It was like seeing Emily after years of hurting and abusing herself. It was pure pain.

"I remember, when I came down here when you two were three, you guys were running around Oliver's house stark naked, laughing like you were having the time of your lives." She reminisced.

"So how many people have screamed at you?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it. Her smile slipped and was replaced with a grim expression.

"Well, your mother and Lilly Truscott slapped me across the face. Lilly slapped me twice and called me some very…interesting words. Oliver screamed a lot. Practically all night…his new wife, Carla or something, even got in a few words. Do you have anything you want to scream at me? Because we might as well get it over with now." Her voice was resigned, as if she accepted her punishments with open arms.

"I can't think of anything at this moment, but don't worry, I'm sure I'll come up with something." I muttered, trying not to think about how she had hurt Emily. I knew if I focused on that I'd make the words Lilly screamed at her look like child's play. Lilly—who finally went through college and medical school—was a pediatrician so I assumed she was over at my parent's house, visiting and tending to Adeline. We saw a lot more of her now that she was married to my uncle Jackson. They had no kids, but I think they are adopting or something. Lilly has two daughters from a previous relationship that were adopted, but they split the time they spend with the girls equally. He was some weird man I never liked. I always thought he was gay, personally.

I smelled Emily's shampoo before I heard her exit the bathroom. I looked up when I inhaled the coconut and vanilla, and Emily was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel loosely held over her body, and her hair wet. Her eyes were wide, but her mouth was set in a determined line. Her mother hastily stood up.

"Emily, I know you don't remember me or recognize me, but I'm your—"

Emily cut her off, her eyes cold and her grip tightening on her towel.

"You were right Cole. It was a dog."

She turned around and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Oh, so her mother was the _it _my mother was talking about. Man. I was hoping it was the St. Bernard. Not a bitch. But, role model, it would be VERY cool if right now you could just like, turn this woman into a St. Bernard.

I wanted to slice my throat from the tension in the room. Her mother stared at the closed door with a blank expression. I coughed and turned, nervously stacking the mail neatly on the counter. I had very rarely seen Emily that angry. God be with her mother if Emily comes back out of the bedroom. She hardly ever got furious, but when she did, she was a force of nature.

A few moments later, Emily came out of the bedroom. She was dressed in her leotard and shorts and tights. Her hair was still wet and it stuck to her shoulders and back. She ignored her mother as she put her bag on her shoulder.

"Emily." Her mother whispered, her voice pleading. Emily paused and finally met her mother's eyes, and I wish I could have been in her head at that moment. I would have loved to know what was going through her mind when she looked directly in her mother's eyes for the first time that she could recall.

"I'm your mother. My name is Lydia Davidson. I live in northern California. I have been divorced three times, I have four children, not counting you, that are currently living with other and more appropriate caretakers." Lydia rushed the words out. Emily ran her fingers through her hair and I could tell she was trying so hard to appear indifferent.

"Yes, well, I never did count to you much, did I?" Emily snapped. Lydia looked like she was in pain. The selfish part of me hoped she was.

"Of course you did! But…you were so much better with Oliver, hone—"

"Don't you _dare _call me honey. I don't know you at all. You are a random stranger who happens to be standing in my apartment. Do _not _call me pet names." Emily hissed darkly. She sounded so furious that my hair stood up and I got chills.

"I'm not a stranger…I'm your mother." Lydia begged.

"NO!" Emily screamed, and she paused to try and get a hold of herself. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes briefly. She opened them and they had the enchanting look of candlelight dancing in them. "You are not my mother. A mother is a person who cares for their daughter, who is there for them when they are scared of the dark, or get made fun of at school, or have their first crush, or get their damn period! A mother holds their daughter when she's sick and tells her they love her! A mother remembers their daughter's fucking birthday! You are not my mother. You are merely a whore who had sex with my daddy and gave birth to me. I want nothing to do with you."

The room was so cold I felt like I could have caught hypothermia. I was awkwardly intruding on a private conversation but I knew Emily wouldn't want me to leave. I stood by her side, working to give her courage.

"I _am _your mother!" Lydia exclaimed, sounding very much like a five year old throwing a hissy fit. "You have my eyes, my hair, my freckles…you are my daughter! I am sorry I was never here! I am so sorry! But I did what I thought was right for you!"

"Right. I'm sure you did. Why don't you explain that to me then, because I sure as Hell don't understand!" Emily screamed, and I caught what I had been scared to find, that thread in her voice that got caught, and the rapid blinking of her eyes as tears burned through them. "How is making your daughter feel like her mother doesn't even love her enough to call her and say happy birthday the best for her?! How?" She demanded.

"I was…unstable. I…wasn't a good role model for you. I didn't want you to grow up around that." Lydia defended herself weakly.

Emily laughed harshly.

"Right. Do you want to know what my life without you has been like?" Emily asked. A few tears edged over her eyelids and fell on her cheeks, sliding down like liquid glass.

"I want to know everything about you," Lydia whispered helplessly.

Emily walked up to her mother, the tears still sparkling on her face. "It's been amazing." She whispered, the malice in her voice so astounding I could feel both their pain inside my heart. "Besides growing up confused and hurt and self conscious about the fact my mother didn't find me worth loving, and besides the fact there was no one in the house I could talk to when I had girl questions, and besides the fact that on Mother's Day when we did our plays, I was the only student with a father sitting in the audience instead. Forgetting all that, yeah, it's been great! Freaking great! I had Miley and Lilly to talk to growing up and now I have Claire, who is a million times the woman you will _ever _be. My dad loved me enough to make up for the love you didn't care enough to give me. I don't need you in my life, I don't want you in my life," Emily stopped suddenly, even though her tone suggested another sentence was following that. Her beautiful eyes were rimmed with bright red and the tear drops fell heavily from her face, sliding slowly down her cheeks and landing on her chest. She had the painful look of someone who had more to say but couldn't say it.

Lydia inched forward, her face contorted with pain. She gently touched her daughter's arm.

"Emily, please, I am _so sorry_—"

"Get out of my sight. Leave. Go. I don't want to see you ever again." Emily whispered. She turned to me and hid her face against my chest. I glared at Lydia until she reluctantly walked out of the apartment and hopefully out of Emily's life.

Emily's sobs quieted and she fell completely still against me. It was quiet. Then, she spoke. Her voice was shaky and muffled.

"It was like looking into a mirror."


	5. Daughters

**A/n: **Sorry for the wait! I have a lot of school work and I've been going out of town with friends and stuff. I either have a mutant cold or the Swine, I'm not entirely certain which. If I don't update in three months, it was Swine and I died. Or I sneezed up my lungs. Thank you all for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this (filler) chapter.

* * *

**"Now Emily hides in a way." -- Nine Days, "Emily". **

**EMILY'S POV:**

"You're late."

I shoved my bag into my locker and slammed it shut. The sharp sound echoed in the empty locker room and just hearing the disapproving tone in her voice made my head hurt even worse. I hadn't wanted to come back to dance late and deal with the consequences, but if I skipped the remainder of today's lessons I'd just have to deal with that tomorrow. Better to get it over with today when the day's already been ruined.

I looked up at the instructor and fought back the new wave of tears. I blinked against the hot burning in my eyes and nose and had to wait through an excruciatingly long silence before I trusted myself to speak.

"I'm really sorry. There was a personal situation that had to be taken care of." I whispered, praying silently that she'd just let it be. I expected her to scream, but her face softened uncharacteristically into concern. This threw me off more than anything. She walked across the white tiled floor and sat down on one of the oak benches. She patted the space beside her. Is this a trap? I cautiously sank down beside her.

"Oken, what has gotten into you? When you first came to this school you had top marks in all your classes—educational and dance wise. You were one of the best in the class. I'm seeing a trend of failure in you lately, Oken." Her voice took on a familiar tone of hardness. "I don't know or care what's going on in your personal life. If you want to be a dancer you need to shove all that shit on the back burner. _This _is the most important thing. Not your family, not your significant other, not your friends. All of your time should be for dance and all you free time should be too." She stood up. "People die and leave and betray, Oken. But dance never leaves you. You have one minute to be in the studio, ready to give it your all, or I'm suspending you from the classes."

She walked briskly out of the locker room, slamming the heavy door shut behind her. I tiredly stood up and made my way to the studio. I would never be able to give dance all she said it needed to have, but I couldn't quit either. It was as much a part of me as my family and my past. I've been taking dance since I was three years old. When I thought back on years I recognized them by whatever recitals I had done at a particular age. They were just me. I leaned against the wall before opening the door. Was it right that so many things outside myself were what made me feel _like myself? _

Everyone looked at me when I walked in. I'm sure they noticed my puffy eyes and would want the story. Sure enough, as soon as the instructor slipped out of the room to get a CD, they crowded around me. They hunted for gossip.

"What happened?" Samantha demanded.

"Nothing. I just don't feel very well." I lied. While everyone deserved kindness and friendship, I wasn't about to tell everyone my personal business. I guess the only friend I had that I would tell anything to was my best friend.

They dispersed. By the time the instructor returned, everyone was back in their spots, appearing to be eagerly awaiting instruction. I was dreaming about just walking out and finding Cole and driving to the airport and closing my eyes and picking a place, somewhere hopefully far away where I didn't have to worry about abandoning mothers and hurtful dance instructors, just the waves and the sand and if there was enough time to explore all the beautiful coves around the beach…

I was jerked out of my dreams by the music. I had missed the freestyle portion of the class and it was back to ballet. I emptied my head of thoughts and danced, thinking only of the music and the routine and the way Sharon's ring sparkled so blindly when she twirled in front of the window that I was left seeing a white orb even when I looked away. I rarely felt peace in this room and part of me wondered why I finally felt the way I had in Claire's studio. I found my answer when the bell rang. The instructor wasn't in the room.

I hurried off into the dressing room, still feeling so out of it, like my mind was somewhere else. I smiled at Sharon as we both took our bags out of our lockers (they were beside each other).

"That's a beautiful ring." I nodded at the diamond that had sparkled so magnificently during practice.

She grinned widely, excitement bouncing in her dark eyes.

"Gavin gave it to me last night! He proposed really terribly, but the poor guy was terrified out of his mind. Literally. He was babbling things about white dresses and bouquets until I finally was like 'Gav, do you want to ask me to marry you?' and he was like 'YES' and OH MY GOSH I am so EXCITED!" She jumped up and down and then widened her eyes. "But don't tell Cole that Gavin proposed yet. He wants to have time to make up a better story to tell his friends so they don't make fun of him."

We both laughed at that. Guys and their pride. Gavin was Cole's best friend (he was okay, it was Michael and Connor I wasn't very partial to) and Sharon had actually met Gavin through us. Out of all the girls here at dance, she was the only one I ever wanted to hang out with outside of class. While she could be petty, she was a much nicer person than everyone else.

"That's really great, Sharon. I'm happy for you." I smiled. "When are you two going to have the wedding?"

"We're thinking four months!" She replied, sticking her head into her locker as she rummaged around for something. My hands slipped off my bag and it fell back on the hook inside the locker. I was expecting something like two years, definitely not four months.

"Oh wow, that's a little soon, don't you think?" I asked carefully. She finally emerged, holding a bottle of lotion and a bar of soap.

"I don't think so. We're pretty serious." She shrugged. She turned and set her bag on the bench behind us. She unzipped it and set the lotion and soap beside the bag. She started sifting through the contents of the duffel. I hesitated and pulled my bag out of the locker and shut it, closing the padlock back. I sat down beside her lotion and soap and began pulling my ballet shoes off.

"You guys are only nineteen though." I said slowly, afraid of offending her or dampening her spirits. I unzipped my bag and shoved the shoes in there.

She shrugged and set a towel and shower pouf beside her soap and lotion.

"Age is but a number." She sang off. She quickly pulled off all her clothes and shoved them in her bag. She gathered her stuff in her arms. "I'll see you tomorrow, Emily."

I waved as she and the others climbed into the showers. They were all separate and had shower curtains, but most the girls kept the curtains open so they could talk to each other easier. My day, which had improved greatly, was steadily getting worse again as I was faced with my own dysfunction. Why was it that I was the only girl who couldn't even change her clothes in front of anyone else? What was wrong with me?

I sat facing the lockers for a long time. It wasn't until my cellphone went off and everyone started leaving that I realized just _how _long I had been sitting there. I pulled my phone out and was immensely relieved to see it was Cole calling. I feared that that woman might try to call me.

"Hello?" I asked. The background noise gradually faded as everyone left. Sooner than I expected, it was just me and Julie, who was applying makeup in front of a mirror.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. I considered this question carefully and immediately dismissed all honest answers that came into my mind.

"Fine. How are you? I'm sorry for what happened…earlier." I whispered, trying to keep Julie from hearing me. But her eyes flickered to me in the mirror and I knew she was now aware there was a secret.

"No problem." He answered smoothly, and I couldn't help but smile, no matter how shitty I felt. "Listen, my mother called and apparently Adeline is asking for us. But if you don't feel up to going over there then—"

"No, I'd love to. Should I meet you at your parent's house?" I asked. Nothing seemed better than going over there. My day was pretty messed up but that didn't mean I shouldn't help make a sick five-year-old's better.

I could hear his smile. "Yeah, sounds good. See you in a little while."

"I love you." I whispered, and suddenly Julie's eyes on me and what she'd tell everyone else didn't matter, because I _did _love him.

"I love you too, Em." And I had to smile too. I ended the call and my smile faded quickly when I realized I had brought nothing to change into. I didn't want to go over there all sweaty and in my dance uniform.

"Darn," I muttered under my breath. I opened my locker and peered inside hopefully, but since I went home to change usually, there wasn't anything. I checked my bag again, but there was only my tennis shoes and ballet shoes and a clean, folded towel that had probably been in there for months.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked suddenly. I looked up at her. She put her makeup bag back into her massive gym bag and raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm supposed to go somewhere after here and I forgot to bring clothes to change into." I replied, deciding it was safe to tell her this because she couldn't make much interesting gossip out of it.

She peered into her bag and pulled out clothing.

"I put the week's clothes in here, because I go straight to my next classes from here and for the first week I forgot to pack clothes each morning."

Julie was one of the few girls who took academic classes each day. I took academic classes Wednesday and Thursday, and dance classes all the other days. It was too overwhelming to have a combination each day. Julie was also the only girl besides me who came here in her dance attire. Most the other girls wore clothes, changed here, and then put those clothes back on after practice. Julie and I came straight from home in our uniform and changed afterwards.

Julie offered me the clothes.

"We should be the same size. The bra might be a bit big but it's better than no bra, right?"

I awkwardly hesitated. I would be late if I went all the way to the apartment and all the way to Miley and Jake's (so late there'd really be no point in even going) but taking her clothes felt so awkward.

"But what about you?" I asked, stalling while I thought.

"Just wash them and bring them back tomorrow and I put them in there for Friday." She shrugged. I realized how rude and slightly offending it would be if I flat out refused her kind offer, so I took the clothes from her.

"Thanks a million, Julie. I promise I'll bring them back tomorrow."

She smiled. "Anytime. I better go so I'm not late for class. Bye, Emily!"

"Bye!"

Once she was left, I inspected the clothing. I immediately blushed at the underwear and bra that I could see no point in someone making (because they were practically not there), and considered going commando and braless. However, the outfit she gave me consisted of a short denim skirt and white beaded tanktop, so I realized that wasn't going to be a very good idea. The instructor was very strict with our practice uniforms and required all girls to go without underwear with the leotards and tights (a lot of girls tried to rebel against this rule the first day until she called everyone to the front and made everyone laugh at their panty lines) and the leotards had built in sports bras. So, having no underwear of any type of my own at hand, new problems arose. I finally decided to take a quick shower and wear what she let me borrow until I got to Miley's where I could pray she had something a little less…prostitute-y to lend. And even if she didn't, we wouldn't be over there very long. I would live.

I showered quickly, using a little shower gel from the bottle someone left in the shower, and dried off. I pulled on the panties—which were a shocking shade of orange and, oh yeah, of the lacy thong variety—and bra (I never quite understood the purpose of see-through bras...if they are under your clothes…what's the point?) which was the same shade of bright orange. Or, well, the straps were and the mesh was. I finished dressing, wondering how on Earth Julie could willingly submit herself to this discomfort.

I felt even more uncomfortable when I looked in the mirror. Julie's next class must be on prostitution, because I couldn't even be comfortable wearing this in a deserted locker room, much less in a classroom. The skirt was really short (when I extended my arms and let them hang at my sides it came to about my wrists) and the tanktop's white couldn't hide the bright orange bra very well. But nothing too extreme was showing, so I pulled my tennis shoes on, gathered my stuff, and forced myself outside.

I unlocked the car and opened the door. I stared at the seat. I didn't see how I was going to get into the seat without flashing whoever was behind me. I finally grabbed the back of the skirt and held it down as I hurdled myself into the car. I slammed the door shut, my cheeks aflame. This is not a good day. These clothes made me feel even less like me. I felt trashy, an adjective I'd always tried so hard to keep away from defining me, as it was used over the years to describe the woman who gave birth to me. I didn't want to be anything like her, but here I was, dressed probably the same way she would. Anger flamed inside of me again and I felt like a bad person on top of everything else. When had I become so lost?

I didn't even remember the drive to the Ryan's. My mind was a whirl of confusion and self-hatred and the next thing I was aware of, I was sitting in their driveway, not quite sure how I got there. I carefully got out of the car and shut the door. Cole's car was already here. I could hear screaming coming from the house. I strained my ears.

"—ODETTE! WHERE ARE YOU?"

I scanned the yard and found myself looking at Odette. She was sitting peacefully on the front steps beside Paint, uncaring to all the people freaking out and looking for her. She stroked his fur absentmindedly with her small hand and he looked up. He jumped up and ran towards me. Oh no. I loved the dog, but nine times out of ten he knocked me over, and I didn't much look forward to the idea of getting knocked over now. Not with the state of my lower half.

However, Paint didn't seem to care. He picked up speed, his tongue flopping out of his mouth and slapping him in the face.

"Paint…good boy…Paint…PAINT! STOP! STOP PAINT! PAINT, NO!"

He placed his front paws against my stomach. I quickly pushed all my strength against him, keeping him from pushing me over. I pet him and he licked my arm, covering it in a thick coat of saliva. I shuddered and pet him again. He didn't get down until he was satisfied that he had been patted enough.

I cautiously sat down beside Odette on the front porch. She looked up at me, her face defiant.

"Why are you out here? Don't you hear your mommy and daddy looking for you?" I asked. She shrugged.

"All they care about is poor Adeline. So I decided to hide to see how they felt when I was gone." She glared at me, as if daring me to say she was wrong.

"That's not very nice, Odette. They are worried about your sister and now they're even more worried because they think someone took you away."

She rolled her eyes. "So? You look like a whore."

I gasped. What kind of kid knows that word?!

"Odette! Where did you learn that word?!" I yelled. She grinned evilly. I never knew blonde pigtails could look so threatening.

"Every time Mikayla's new video comes on my mommy yells that at the screen. And you're dressed juuuust like her."

I have to give the kid props. As bad as she is, she is still good at deductive reasoning. And smart, which probably accounts for her evil behavior sometimes. She's maturing too fast for her age.

"Don't say that word anymore. Come on, let's go inside."

I ignored her protests and pulled her into my arms. I stood up quickly, hoping no one got a look up my skirt. She resisted, but she was a tiny little thing and didn't stand a chance.

I opened the door.

"I HAVE ODETTE!" I screamed. Immediately, I could hear people running towards me. Jake burst in first. He pulled Odette into his arms and hugged her and Miley came in next. Cole walked in last and he raised his eyebrows. He hugged me.

"Not that I don't like the new outfit, but are you okay? This isn't very…Emily-ish." He whispered into my ear before he released me from the hug.

I shrugged. "I've decided to give up dance and become a prostitute. This is my Monday outfit. What do you think? All my customers seemed to like it but I got the impression they were just saying that." I said seriously. I resisted the urge to laugh until the very last moment and then I couldn't handle it any more. We both doubled over in laughter (thankfully my back was to the door so only the wall got an eyeful) and it wasn't until a minute later that I was able to regain composure. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. Our close proximity and the fact his parents were in the same area as us made my face catch fire. His hand slid down my back and over the skirt and he rested it against the back of my thigh. He stroked his hand up my leg. He slowly kept tracing upward until I was about to push it away (with difficulty…the only thing almost as strong as my fear was his irresistibility) when suddenly a snapping noise came so close to my ear I winced. We pulled back from each other and Miley's hand was in our face, snapping away.

"Not in front of the _children_!" She gasped, appearing completely scandalized about what had just happened in her foyer. She glared and took Odette from Jake's arms before walking out.

Jake coughed awkwardly.

"Never a good idea to be touchy-feely in front of little children. I learned that the hard way…" He trailed off thoughtfully and then marched out like he had a purpose.

Cole and I glanced at each other.

"They definitely just left us alone. That kind of makes it seem like they want us to carry on…" Cole trailed off hopefully. I laughed, my heart still not quite back in normal rhythm. I would agree with him if it wasn't for the fact that I knew that would have eventually led to the removal of clothing, and just the idea of that still shamed me to the tips of my toes. How could I ever explain to him that the reason I still wouldn't have sex with him was because I was embarrassed to be naked? Even saying it in my head sounded ridiculous, because there was no way I could explain the way I _felt. _I felt like I had lied to him. That maybe he felt he was getting someone beautiful and when he actually did see me naked, he would realize that isn't what he got. He would most likely stutter and lie and say I looked pretty but then never wanting to have anything to do with me again. Somehow that would hurt more than him flat out laughing at the way I looked.

Adeline saved me from having to make up some excuse.

"C! EMMY! WHERE ARE YOU?!" She screamed.

"We better go see her before she freaks out." I faked a smile and hurried down the hallway. Adeline and Odette still slept in the room Cole and I helped Miley paint before they were born. Adeline's bed was under her name where her crib used to be and the same for Odette. As soon as the girls were potty trained they decided to let their parents get them "big girl beds". They had resisted the change before then. Both girls' bedspreads were bright green. Adeline's bed was home to about thirty mystical stuffed creatures. Odette's held nothing out of the ordinary except a battered stuffed otter. It looked like it got abused, but also looked like it was very well loved.

Adeline smiled at us. Her hair was in a ponytail and a bucket sat on the bed, between her and the wall. Her stuffed unicorn Prince Corey was wrapped tightly in her arms.

"C! Emily!" She exclaimed happily. "I missed you guys." She sniffed.

I hugged her, a part of me wishing I'd get whatever she had so I didn't have to go to dance, and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"A lot better since I threw up."

"IT WAS SO COOL! YOU COULD SEE THE SPAGHETTI JUST FLOATING AROUND IN THERE! I wanted to bring it for show and tell but Mommy said no." Odette pouted. She slid into the room and sat on her bed.

Adeline sniffed again. "Where are Mommy and Daddy, C?"

"Do you want them in here?" He asked. She nodded tearfully. Cole stood up to get them, but Odette beat him to it. She stood on her bed and screamed.

"MOMMY! DADDY! ADDIE WANTS YOU!" She had the loudest voice I'd ever heard. A few seconds later, Miley and Jake came in the room. Jake hugged Odette.

"My little actress! You have the best projection I've ever heard!" He praised. Odette smiled happily.

"What is it honey?" Miley asked Adeline.

"I want everyone here." She replied. I glanced at Cole, a suspicious idea forming that we were going to have to sit here for hours.

"Adeline, Cole and Emily have to go home soon you know." Jake said gently. Adeline's lower lip trembled.

"But…but…why can't they just stay in C's room?"

"Addie, we can't just not go home." Cole said carefully. Adeline's eyes filled with tears.

"You don't love me." She whispered.

"Of course we do!" I exclaimed quickly. She sniffed.

"Not enough to stay here with me when I'm really, really sick." She whispered. I glanced helplessly at Cole, who looked helplessly at his father, who looked helplessly at his mother.

"Okay, we'll stay." Cole finally answered. Adeline grinned.

"YAY! What princess movie should we watch?!" She exclaimed.

If I looked into the future, all I saw was hours and hours of princess movies. While Miley turned off the lights and started a movie of Adeline's choice, Cole motioned for me to sit down beside him. We sat on the floor and I wrapped a blanket over me so I could cross my legs. He leaned in.

"We'll be able to leave. I bet she'll fall asleep within the first movie."

She didn't, however. She stayed awake through _five _princess movies, narrating them for us. The only time her constant narration ceased was when she was throwing up into the bucket. Odette fell asleep in Miley's arms halfway through the first one, probably from boredom. She'd probably watched these a million times.

Finally, Adeline's voice sounded sleepy.

"—And that's Prince Bartholomew's dog, Granite. He ends up saving the Prince's life after he is hurt by the bad guy after he saves Princess Margaret. He doesn't like cheese or mice and when the Prince whistles like this—" she struggled to whistle a short tune "—Granite comes running!! He…"

She trailed off. We all stayed silent. Jake, who was lying beside her, whispered:

"She's asleep."

We all carefully stood up and tiptoed out of the room. I was so tired I could barely see straight.

"I think we're staying here after all." Cole whispered, probably seeing the way I couldn't stand straight. We wished his parents goodnight and promised there'd be no "funny business" before walking the familiar path to his bedroom.

The smell of paint still lingered. His bed was made and looked a lot more comfortable than the one at the apartment. He couldn't take this one with him when he moved out because it was made into the platform it was on. I walked over to the dresser that held clothes that either didn't fit him anymore or he just didn't like. Cole flipped the light on and I searched, half asleep, for something to sleep in. I found a paint-stained white t-shirt and pajama pants with holes in the knees. I slipped into the bathroom and stumbled out of Julie's skank clothes (regrettably having to keep her undergarments on though) and into these.

When I came back into the room, the lights were off and Cole had already stripped down to his boxers. We yawned at the same time and smiled, crawling under the covers. This bed was much nicer. I curled into his arms. He ran his hands down my back and over my bottom and laughed suddenly.

"There's a hole in the butt of these." I blushed but didn't really care. I'd gotten used to the thong by then and forgot I was wearing it. I assumed the hole would only reveal normal underwear. There was another pause and he sounded very much awake with his next statement. "Are you wearing underwear?!"

* * *

**COLE'S POV:**

I woke up the next morning confused. My dreams were a mixture of appropriate and inappropriate things, although I felt as though the part about Emily in a thong really happened…but I was half asleep so my Homeboy only knows what really happened. I meant to ask (because the kind of underwear she was wearing is crucial…I care more about that than a lot of things) but when I was conscious, she was gone. I knew she would be, because she still had to wash her dance clothes and stuff before going into class, but it still made my morning even more miserable. I was forced into a seat at the table by my mother and forced to eat breakfast with them (Adeline made a miraculous recovery overnight) and was then forced to agree to come over for lunch. It was ten before I got out of the house. I went back to the apartment, hoping that maybe I'd run into Emily, but knowing I wouldn't. I took a shower and changed clothes before gathering everything and setting off for work, feeling like I was driving down into the pits of Hell.

"You are the worst employee I've ever had." Steven scolded as I walked in. "And you suck at video games. But, since I value your friendship, I'll let you keep loitering."

I rolled my eyes and set up paintings. I didn't much feel like getting my ass kicked in video games again, so I decided to paint another picture to pass time. Steven plugged his iPod into the speakers and played online video games. Him and his video games. He was obsessed.

I decided to paint the backyard of my childhood home. It was a very beautiful place to grow up at. I started with the basic outline of the hills and worked my way to the ocean.

"Cole Ryan?"

I ignored the female voice. I went back to the rolling hills and tossing waves of my picture. This blue was the best blue I'd ever had. The color was rich and perfect. It was the ocean.

"Cole Ryan?" The voice asked again. I rolled my eyes from behind the easel.

"Nope." I muttered shortly. I need that dark green for the hills...did I bring it? I couldn't remember putting it in the bag but I almost always had it with me...

"Then who are you?" The voice was starting to sound familiar in a very distant way.

"I don't see how that concerns you. But the name's Russell Sprout, if you must know." I lied. I just wanted the person to go away. Who I was didn't matter. Either they see something they want to buy, or they don't. The fact my parents are famous has nothing to do with that.

"What is it with you and your mother and your identity problems?" The girl laughed.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. My mother doesn't have identity problems." I was really annoyed.

"Sure she does. She thought she was Hannah Montana, and you think you're Russell Sprout." She answered.

"She didn't _think _she was Hannah Montana, she just—" I stopped when I realized I just admitted what she'd been trying to prove the whole time. She laughed an enchanting laugh.

"I like this one. How much?"

I moved my easel to see which one she was interested in, and immediately jumped back. I always knew I hadn't seen the last of her, but I was still surprised to see her here. And unhappy. She was about as welcome as Swine Flu.

Caitlyn Mongelli smiled at me, unaffected by my reaction. Her hair was lighter and her skin darker, as if she'd spent a lot of time in the sun. She was as strange and beautiful as ever. She smiled at me as if we were old friends.

"Um..." I stuttered. She grinned triumphantly and I realized she probably thought I was stuttering because she was so pretty. Um, no. More like I'm stuttering because I'm confused as to why the fuck she's here. "However much you want to pay for it." Just leave.

She pulled a roll of money out of her pocket and handed it to me, her fingers lingering against mine for longer than necessary.

"I'm going to need help carrying that to my car." She whispered, gazing up at me with a small smirk. Oh no.

"Hey, Steven?" I called.

"What?! I'm trying to kill the mutant mosq—DAMMIT! WHO THE HELL DOES THAT MUTANT KING THINK HE IS?! THIS IS MY--- ARGGGG GET OFF ME, GET OFF ME!"

"He seems kind of busy." She flashed her white teeth at me. "Why don't you do it? I know you're strong enough for it, just look at your arms."

I know my arms are great; I don't need a stalker telling me that. I sighed and stood up, pulling the painting into my arms. What could she do to me? Run me over with her car?

I followed her out and she led me to a bright blue convertible. She popped the trunk and I slid the painting into the back.

"Bye."

I turned to walk back into the store, and I almost got away with it, until her hand closed around mine. Cursing silently under my breath, I turned to face the music.

"Something else you need me to carry?" I asked sarcastically. Just go. Leave. Leave me alone. I don't love you.

She walked up until she was right against me.

"My heart," She breathed. She pushed her hands up my shirt and I shoved her away.

"Caitlyn, I'm still dating Emily." I explained. I backed away from her. She seemed to not hear what I said.

"So dump her." She replied.

"No." I said firmly. "I love her."

She blinked. "And you don't love me?" She cooed.

"No, I don't." I said bluntly.

She smiled. "Not yet."

"Not ever."

She glared. Suddenly she looked more scary than beautiful. "When will you realize we're supposed to be together?"

"When are you going to realize I'm not leaving Emily?"

She advanced toward me again. I pushed her away.

"Caitlyn, stop." I snapped.

She smiled suddenly. "You _will_ love me."

And then she turned around, swaying her hips like she was dancing, and climbed into her car. She sped off, leaving me feeling a mixture of anger and pity. I stared after the car, knowing and understanding what had to be done now. I knew what her father did to my mother's life. She wasn't near as big as a threat, and I knew one thing that would finally make her realize she couldn't break me and Emily apart. The plan formed on its own accord, and it felt _right. _


	6. Beginning

**A/n: **(Okay, wtf? I posted this like 10ish hours ago and FF refused to show it. I'm going to try and repost. If you're reading this, it worked this time. If you aren't...well then it didn't work and now I have to try and understand why....)Sorry for the wait. School plus friends plus driver's license plus babysitting equals late updates. This is another filler (sorry). I hope there are still some people interested in this story...if there is: hi! thanks for reading/reviewing/both :) oh wait if you're reading this you haven't done any of those yet...nevermind LMFAO umm....anyway. Thank you all for the reviews last chapter :D Stay awesome and Swine-free!!

* * *

"**I'm not going to sacrifice love, real love, for any fuckin' whore or any friend, or any business, because in the end you're alone at night." -- John Lennon **

**EMILY'S POV: **

The instructor kept us late after lunch. She decided none of us were doing anything correctly so from two until eight at night she kept us there, making us relearn every basic principal of dancing. It kind of insulted me because Claire taught me all my basics, and I know she's a good teacher. And as mean as it sounded…she is a better dancer than the instructor.

I was so tired by the time I finally reached the apartment door. My mind couldn't focus on anything except Cole, sleep, and the hunger biting at the pit of my stomach. I couldn't decide what I craved more: his smile, the bed, or an entire pizza. All three would be best.

When I entered the apartment, he was in what seemed to be a deep conversation with whoever was on the other end of his phone. We smiled at each other and I decided to take a shower while he was otherwise occupied. I took a fast shower and pulled pajamas on. I could still hear his voice from the living room so I wasted more time by blow-drying my hair. By the time I was done with this, he was _still _on the phone.

I sat down beside him on the couch. He was holding the phone to his ear with his right hand and painting violently with the left. There was a lot of black and red on the canvas, a sure sign that he was upset about something. I worried for a second if he was angry at _me_, but my worries disappeared when he wrapped an arm around me and hugged me so tightly it hurt. I looked up at him and into his blue eyes and saw annoyance and something that looked a little like caution. I searched them for what felt like five minutes and by the time we looked away, his call had ended.

"Who was that?" I asked. He set the paintbrush down and wrapped his other arm around me too. This was more relaxing than a hot shower. I felt my eyes dropping shut and I leaned my head against him, waiting for his answer. When it didn't come, I lifted my head and looked at him curiously.

"No one of importance. How was dance?" He changed the subject smoothly, running a hand through my hair. Dance was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I was way more interested in hearing about the mystery person on the phone, but if he didn't want to tell me I wasn't going to make him.

"Tiring. How was selling today?" I let my head drop back on his shoulder and my exhaustion coaxed my eyelids down.

"Good until we had a visitor." His voice had the air of a forced calm. I reached blindly for his hand and grabbed at air until he grabbed mine.

"I'm sorry. Who was it?" I squeezed his hand. I could feel the dry paint on it.

There was a long pause. I was drifting off…

"Caitlyn Mongelli." He finally said.

I jerked up, my stomach practically falling to my knees. Anger mingled with dread as I looked up at his nonchalant expression.

"What?" I asked, and my voice sounded like a gust of air to me.

"She came by today." He repeated, eyeing me with doubt as if he wondered if he should have told me this. I tried to reassure myself by repeating that if something had happened he wouldn't have even told me she came by. Besides, he wouldn't cheat on me…not even when a beautiful girl throws herself on him…right?

"What did she…want?" I asked, working to strangle the panic and keep it out of my voice.

He kept his eyes on mine, looking for something that I wasn't telling him. He answered.

"Nothing. She didn't even see me there. She just walked in and asked for directions."

The relief was insane. All my muscles relaxed and I leaned back down against him, laughing weakly inside at my reaction. She wouldn't ever have him anyway, even if she had seen him.

"Oh." I mumbled, as if his answer didn't mean anything to me while in reality it meant a lot. I glanced back at the painting. "A lot of black. What's wrong?" I looked up at him. He smiled and kissed me.

"I just ran out of all the other colors. I need to buy some more."

"Sounds like a great thing to spend some of your birthday money on." I suggested coyly, grinning at the scowl that flitted across his face at my words.

"Those crazy people offered me more money today. I just don't understand why they pick me as their choice charity. They should be giving this money to like small animals and sick children…"

I laughed. "Small animals and sick children aren't their son."

"I don't know…I kind of looked like a small beaver in 6th grade when I had braces…"

I fell into laughter again, picturing his 6th grade face as a beaver. All this laughing was hurting my stomach, which already ached from lack of food all day. However, I didn't feel like getting up and searching for something edible and if I ignored the hunger it would go away after a while. The thought of finally looking like I was supposed to was way more appealing than a whole pizza, which had the potential of ruining my life. Eating a ton tonight would result in guilt. The last thing I needed was guilt added to the fear and unease I already felt every time I looked in the mirror or heard from my teacher what I should look like.

"Yes, but you were _their _beaver." I clarified.

"Oh…" He nodded as if everything had finally begun to make sense. There was a long pause. "Is it okay if I drop you off at the studio tomorrow instead of you driving?"

That made no sense. That would take him completely out of his way…why would he…?

"Um…sure, if you want to. But why?"

He shrugged and picked his paintbrush back up.

"Because I'm picking you up and I don't think you want your car sitting there for a while."

I immediately ran tomorrow's date through my mind, trying to remember if there was some previous engagement we'd agreed to that would cause him to have to pick me up. I couldn't think of anything.

"And why are you picking me up?" I finally asked. Ugh, that meant I'd have to take a shower there. I made a mental note to pack my own towel, washcloth, soap, and change of clothes.

His eyes seemed to be smiling. The blue captivated me and for a moment I forgot just what exactly I had wanted to ask him…

He leaned forward and kissed my nose. He lingered with his lips there. "You'll see." He mumbled. He pulled away, a smirk set on his mouth.

I pouted.

His smirk faded into a small smile.

"I'm sorry, but it's a surprise." He hugged me again and I hugged him back.

"I love you." I whispered. He kissed me.

"I love you too." He replied.

Somehow, it sounded like an explanation.

* * *

**COLE'S POV:**

Emily and I overslept that morning. I woke up around nine randomly and realized the power had gone out while we were sleeping, causing us to have no alarm clock and therefore no wakeup call. I was pissed off. Why couldn't this fucking apartment ever have everything working at once for more than a week? Of course, we wouldn't have to sleep here until next week so it didn't matter anyway. That thought cheered me up.

I wasn't really bothered about waking up late because I wasn't planning on going to work today. I had other things to take care of. Emily, in contrast, was extremely panicked. She grabbed my arm as I passed the bathroom and yanked me in the room.

"What?!" I asked, looking around to see what was wrong. She was standing in front of the sink with a giant bag resting on the counter.

"What kind of clothes do I need to have on when you pick me up?! TELL ME!" She yelled. I nervously loosened her tight grip on my forearm.

"Just comfortable clothes. Nothing fancy. Pack like shorts and a t-shirt."

She dropped her hand from me and nodded, tossing things into the bag. The idea of being late really bothered her.

I wandered into the kitchen and made some eggs and toast. I had it all nicely on plates when she ran into the kitchen, fully ready. I stood up and pulled the bag off her shoulder. I set it on the ground.

"Come on, you're already late. You can spare a few minutes. Have breakfast with me."

She shook her head distractedly.

"No, I really need to go. Thank you though." She grabbed the toast off her plate, kissed me, picked up her bag, and rushed out, looking harassed.

I put my food in the microwave, hoping it would stay semi-warm, and met Emily in the car. I dropped her off at her studio (she seemed so upset about being late that she could hardly tell me goodbye) and then ventured back to the apartment where I heated up my breakfast, ate it, and then washed the dishes so when we came back we wouldn't have to smell dirty dishes. I had a lot to accomplish before it was time to pick her up, so I figured it was time to get going. I hurried out to my car and took off.

I ran the address through my mind as I sped along the highway. I was headed for Los Angeles. I needed to pay a visit to a jewelry shop. In my wallet was almost all the money my mother had given me. I spotted my exit and signaled. I turned off onto it and entered the hell that is Los Angeles.

Traffic was shitty. I don't remember ever using my horn so much. It seemed like the only requirement for a driver's license here was to be at least 4'5. Finally, after an hour of traffic, I pulled into the parking lot. The shop was extremely classy and expensive looking and people looked at me as I walked in, as if wondering who I was and what my business here was. They were dressed like celebrities and I suddenly felt like I should have worn church clothes or something. I awkwardly hurried into the store.

The walls were deep purple and the room was the size of an auditorium. Display cases ran the length of the store, all holding expensive jewelry that shined brightly in the lights that were glaring on it. Employees were dressed in nice clothes and stood behind cases, waiting. I was looking for an employee by the name Dave.

An older woman approached me.

"How can I help you, sir?" She asked.

"I am looking for Dave." I replied, automatically making my voice as educated as hers and dropping all California slang.

She nodded and smiled kind of creepily, before turning and walking away. I stood there uncomfortably for a few minutes, before an ancient looking man arrived.

"I'm Dave. Are you Cole Ryan?" He whispered, as if this were an illegal drug transaction. I resisted the urge to laugh and nodded somberly instead. He jerked his head.

"Follow me."

Everyone stared at us as he led me to the very back of the large room, where there was a door the same color as the wall. It blended in with the wall so well that at first I wondered why he was pushing at the wall. He walked in and I followed him cautiously. Rich people are weird.

The room he led me in was so white it hurt my eyes. There was only one, short display case in this room. It was right in the middle.

"Only our most select customers get to see these." He whispered. "But your parents are valued customers so you, as their birth child, get some of the same privileges. I remember it as if it were yesterday…your dad came in here, looking for an engagement ring. And now his son is. I also remember when he bought your mother a necklace so expensive that I was afraid to even pick it up to give it to him after he paid…I would tell you the price, but someone could be listening." He glanced nervously at the door. What a weirdo.

I stood there awkwardly, wondering if I was allowed to walk up and look.

"Can I…?" I motioned at the case.

He held up a finger. He leaned his head toward the direction of the door and listening closely. After an agonizingly long pause, he nodded.

"Careful, though…" He hissed.

I walked up to the case and glanced down at the jewelry in it.

The moment I saw the ring, I knew it was the right one. It had a thin, silver band that was covered with tiny diamonds. The diamond on the ring was a large, circular one and it was encircled with tiny diamonds like those on the band. It was so simple looking but yet so gorgeous.

"This one." I said immediately. "How much?"

But I knew no matter what it was it was the one I was getting.

"Shhh!" The old man hissed, his eyes flickering obsessively toward the door. He shuffled forward slowly and gingerly pressed his hand firmly against a black part on the back of the case. There was a pause and the case clicked opened lightly. He slowly reached a quaking hand into it and pulled the ring out. He leaned forward and glanced at the small tag attached to the ring by a string made out of silky looking material. He looked up at me and slowly mouthed numbers. What the fuck.

"Just say it." I snapped.

He whispered something but it was such a quiet whisper that I didn't understand any of it. I was getting frustrated. I leaned forward and pulled the ring out of his hands. He gasped, his entire body shaking with fear or shock or something. I glanced at the tag.

**$227,995**

I resisted the urge to yell or faint or something. Okay, I didn't even know rings ran that high. Good God! Homeboy, I need some help here. I really want this ring for Emily but that price really ain't flying.

As if Jesus heard my mental exclamation, the old man shuffled toward me. He stuffed an unsteady and wrinkled hand into his pocket and pulled out a marker. He pulled the ring from my hands and slashed at the price tag.

"Here's to young love and being able to pay for rent." He wheezed. He slowly dropped the ring back in my palm and I glanced at the new price.

**$17,995**

A grin spread over my face and the diamond winked at me, as if saying _how's THAT for a miracle? _I looked up to thank the old man, but he was already walking out of the room.

"Meet me at the main counter." He grunted.

I stayed back in the room, the smile set firmly on my face. It was actually peaceful in that small room. It was nice and cool and completely quiet. So quiet and peaceful that fears crept up on me. It dug its nails into my ankles and crawled up my body, clinging onto me for dear life. I tried to shake it off but it seemed insistent.

What if she said no?

The door pushed opened.

"Sir, are you coming?" The old woman I met first asked. I nodded and she pulled a ring box out of her pocket. It was crystal with a lavender hue to it. She opened it and held her hand out for the ring. I handed it to her. She pulled the tag off and then polished it thoroughly with a polishing cloth. Then she settled it between the black satin that was inside the box to hold the ring in place. She shut the box gently.

"Did you make sure this was the right size for your fiancée, sir?"

Oh yeah. I reached into my pocket. While she was sleeping, I grabbed the only other ring she had to bring to make sure I got the right size. It was a ring her grandparents got her for some academic achievement.

I handed it to the woman.

"I'm not sure what size that is…can you check and make sure the ring is the right one?"

"We have other sizes that are not on display if it isn't." She assured me. She motioned for me to follow her. We walked back into the large, purple room and she led me across the white carpet to the other side of the room. I waited while she handed the rings to a man and he sized them carefully. He nodded at both of us. I watched in exasperation as the woman spent another five minutes polishing the ring before placing it back into the case and shutting it. Then she reached behind the counter the man was at and pulled out a silver satin drawstring bag. She put the ring box in that bag. I followed her over to the counter where I paid with one-hundred and eighty one-hundred dollar bills and got a nickel back. I think the man cut the tax off the price too.

He handed me a receipt that was on a plastic card.

"To make sure it lasts." The lady muttered. "We also have your name stored in our system so if you lose the receipt we'll print you off another. Your ring has a lifetime guarantee and you can get it repaired and resized for free as long as you have that card. We hope you'll get the wedding rings from us!"

That was the most enthusiasm I'd ever heard in anyone's voice here. I nodded and grabbed the satin bag. I hesitated. I looked at the old man, who was staring nervously into space, a paranoid look on his wrinkled face.

"Thank you, Dave." I whispered just as he had this whole time.

He grinned.

"Anytime, Cole Ryan." He hissed back. "I love young people…"

I nodded and awkwardly left, happiness radiating around me. I had the ring. That made it seem so real. I wished I would have been able to buy it with my own money. If she says yes…I'm going to have to figure out something else to do with my life. What if one day we have children? I have to be able to make my own money so they can have toys and clothes and food. Maybe I should go to college and get a degree to teach art.

I put the satin bag into the glove department and locked that securely. Then I started the car and set off for my next (and most dreaded) location: my parent's house.

My dad knew about it. He was the one who told me to come here (although he didn't mention how psychotic Dave was). That's who I was talking to when Emily came home. But he swore not to tell my mom until I could. If I don't tell her exactly right she'll FREAK OUT.

My dad already asked Oliver to be there.

While he didn't even deserve for me to ask him, I was going to anyway. Only because my life would be harder than it already is if I didn't. But even when Oliver says I can't ask his daughter to marry me, I still will. I'm just going to try and be polite.

The drive to my parent's house was painfully shorter than it should have been. I sat in the driveway as long as I could before realizing if I waited any longer I wouldn't be able to get the last thing done I needed to. I made sure I locked my doors and I hurried into the house, not even bothering to knock.

The first thing I heard was my father's bragging voice, coming from the kitchen.

"Yeah, we bought that beauty with some of the money I got filming _Euphemism of Love_. My pay for it was ridiculous. It was such a hit in the box office because I was shirtless practically the entire movie. I always said I should have been a porn star! If I was we'd be so rich we could have a house made out of pure gold!"

I rolled my eyes and entered the kitchen. My mom and sisters were sitting at the table and my dad was showing Oliver their fancy new refrigerator that was voice activated. You could say "butter" and it would immediately be pushed out. The tricky part was making sure you put the food in the exact places you programmed them to be when you set up the fridge. It also opened and closed if you clapped your hands and could measure out water from the door. My dad named it Betty.

"Hey, Betty, I'd like a cup of water. Filled about two-thirds full, please." I said loudly and clearly as I walked in the kitchen. Oliver watched in amazement as the refrigerator pushed a paper cup forward (there was a spot inside of it to load the cups) and filled it as much as I asked.

I grabbed the cup and ignored Oliver's glares. I sat down at the island and drank the water.

"What's a porn star?" Adeline asked curiously. I choked on the water and spat it all over the counter. Oliver roared with laughter and my mom scolded my father.

"Someone who grows corn, duh." Odette snapped. She rolled her eyes.

"He didn't say corn star! He said PORN star!" Adeline screamed.

"No he didn't!" Odette argued.

"Yeah, I said corn star!" Dad quickly exclaimed. "I should have been a corn harvester!"

Adeline scrunched up her nose. "That sounds boring."

"And disgusting. That's why he wasn't one." Mom glared.

I cleared my throat.

"Hi, Coley!" Mom exclaimed happily.

Adeline smiled. "I love you, C!" She yelled.

"What are you doing here, dumb head? Don't you have a life?" Odette asked.

"Odette always was my favorite of your children." Oliver said, smiling affectionately at Odette. Adeline sniffed sadly and Oliver quickly took back his previous statement.

"I need to talk to you and Oliver." I said to my mother. She obviously started fearing the worst because her eyes widened.

"Jake, will you take—"

Dad cut her off. "Come on, girls! Let's go play with Paint!"

Dad and the twins left the kitchen. It was a lot tenser with just my mother and Oliver in there.

They opened their mouths. I cut them off.

"No, Emily is NOT pregnant."

They exhaled in relief.

"What is it, boy?" Oliver snapped.

I breathed deeply and worked to keep my temper under control. Once I felt calm, I replied.

"I need to ask you something."

He raised his eyebrows. "Then do it."

I suddenly couldn't meet his eyes.

"I want to ask Emily to marry me. Are you going to be an ass about it or are you going to let me?"

Okay, not exactly the words I meant to say, but oh well.

It was dead silent.

I risked a look up. Oliver's face was a bright red and my mom had tears in her eyes. Oh God. Emotional outbursts in 3, 2, 1…

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SMOKING?!"

"Marry? My…little…boy…getting…married…oh my God…"

"—DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE JUST COMING IN HERE AND ASKING ME LIKE THAT! I AM HER FATHER! I—"

"Seems like just yesterday I was teaching you how to talk…and now you're proposing to the girl you love…the years went by so fast…it isn't fair…"

"—EMILY IS MY LITTLE GIRL AND MUCH TOO YOUNG TO BE GETTING MARRIED! YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO CORRUPT HER AND STEAL HER INNOCENCE! YOU'RE A PLAYER AND—"

"I'm just so happy for you, Coley…my little boy grew up to be the man I always hoped he would…I am so incredibly proud to be your mother…"

"—MY LITTLE ANGEL!"

They both fell silent at the same time. My mouth was hanging open in shock. Oliver looked like an angry bull and my mother was dabbing at her eyes.

"Are you sure about this? You two are so young." She whispered. "I don't want you tying yourself down and never getting to experience the world…"

"THE NERVE OF THAT BOY!"

"I love her. I'm sure." I said calmly.

They both fell silent again. My mom turned to Oliver.

"Oliver, I know Emily is your little girl, but there comes a time when you have to let go. You _know _she loves Cole. You've known from the moment they met they were going to end up together. It's time to accept the future. It's time to let Emily go and open up your heart for the new baby on the way."

What the hell?! New baby on the way? Jesus Christ, Claire is having a baby? I hope for that baby's sake it's a boy. Oliver is way too protective over daughters.

Oliver seemed torn between yelling again and crying. It was difficult to watch. I looked away from him.

"She…Emily…"

He stopped.

A deep silence filled the room. Oliver sniffed. I didn't look. When he spoke he sounded as if he had a very bad cold.

"I gave up my life for her and I love her so, so much…she is my world. I don't know how to give her up. She's my baby." He whispered.

"Oliver…"

I glanced over and Oliver had his face pressed into my mother's shoulder and she was patting his back sympathetically.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, once me and Emily are married we'll visit all the time! And you're not losing a daughter, you're gaining a son!"

He cried harder than ever.

* * *

Once Oliver's breakdown was over, my mom came into the living room (where I ran off to) to talk to me.

"He gives you his blessing. Well, those weren't his exact words. He actually said 'tell the punk he can steal my entire life' but I figured that sounded nicer."

I laughed. Heck, those were better than the words I'd guessed I would receive.

"Do you already have the ring?" She asked. I nodded.

"But you can't see it until Emily does." I said firmly. She frowned and sighed.

"Fine. How are you going to propose?"

I leaned back in the chair.

"That's actually why I needed to talk to you. I'm taking her to New Zealand."

Her eyes bulged.

"New Zealand?! Cole, don't you think that's a little extreme?"

I shook my head.

"We might never get a chance to go somewhere like this again—"

"Whenever you want money I'll—"

I cut her off. "I am _not _taking money from you ever again."

"Why New Zealand?" She asked curiously.

"Remember that one movie of Dad's that was filmed there?" I asked. She nodded. "Well, when Emily and I used to hear stories from him about how great it was there, we used to always dream about running away and going there."

She sniffed. "That's so sweet, Coley, but how long are you going to stay there?"

"Good question. I was thinking like a week. I need you to tell Oliver. You're like the only person he won't attack."

She nodded. "Fine, but I want more details. How are you going to propose exactly?!"

I spent thirty minutes giving her every detail of my plan she asked for. When I was done she had exclaimed 'aw!!' so many times she was hoarse.

I checked the time on my phone and almost died. It was late. I had to go.

"I need to go now, Mom. I still have to pack our bags."

"Make sure to pack anything of hers in the bathroom, Cole. You don't want to send her over to New Zealand without girl products."

"Okay."

She hugged me tightly, and I'm pretty sure she was crying.

"Good luck. Be safe. Good luck. I love you." She kept a tight grip on me.

"Mom?" I asked.

She sniffed. "Okay, okay." She stepped back. Her eyes were red. She wiped at them.

"Good luck." She whispered again.

"Thanks."

I told everyone else goodbye and sped back to the apartment. There I followed my mother's advice and packed everything of Emily's into four bags. I fit all my stuff into one. Emily could narrow her stuff down in the car on the way to the airport.

Once everything was in order, I left for the studio. It was a little early, but I would need that time to get a hold of myself. My nerves were fit to match Oliver's anger and sadness.

I parked across the street from the studio and sat in the car, practicing even breathing. I almost pissed myself when two people leaped on the hood of my car.

I slammed on the horn and they rolled off, howling with laughter. I opened my door and looked (regrettably) into the faces of my two guy best friends, Gavin Stephenson and Michael Hodgens. Gavin was annoyingly happy and Michael had a creepy obsession with my mother, but other than that they were good enough guys. I climbed out and Gavin clapped my shoulder.

"I haven't seen you in a while! Where have you been? With _Emily_?"

Michael wiggled his eyebrows and I punched his arm. He winced and glared at me.

"Jackass! No need to be so violent."

"No need to be so wimpy." I retorted.

"Good one." Gavin stuck his hand out and we did the handshake we made up in seventh grade.

"So how did you two find me? I thought I was going a good job hiding from you asses…"

"We were driving by and Michael claims he saw the sexiest girl in history walking this way. So we turned around and parked, but we haven't seen her again. I think he was lying." Gavin explained. Michael was peering around hopefully.

"I am _not _lying! I saw her! She had the sexiest body I've ever seen and she---THERE SHE IS! HA! I TOLD YOU I WASN'T LYING! LOOK! LOOK!"

"Dude, calm down before you shit yourself and look like a complete dick in front of her!"

Michael took my advice. He nodded and calmed. We followed his gaze and I immediately darted behind Gavin. He was a lot taller and bigger than me, so this worked well.

The girl they were referring to was no other than Caitlyn Mongelli. What was she doing lurking around the area Emily's studio was? That made me uncomfortable.

"Damn," Michael breathed. "I would do so many things to her..."

"Unless one of those 'things' includes putting her in a straight jacket—"

"No, I was thinking handcuffs actually—"

"Then I'd stay the hell away from her." I finished forcefully.

"Why are you hiding?" Gavin asked.

I ignored Gavin's question and peeked. She had her back to us. She was facing Emily's studio. I felt safe enough to return to my previous spot.

"And why not? Have you _looked _at her? She's like the best looking chick I've ever seen in my life…there isn't anything I _wouldn't _do to her…God…"

I sighed. "Michael, I'm going to explain this in terms even you can understand. Bitch is crazy!"

"Damn," Gavin said sadly. "Don't you hate when you see a gorgeous chick but she's completely out of her mind? It always makes me sad…it's like I'm looking at the little ghost of a perfect woman…all the possibilities…" He trailed off with a sigh.

"I don't care if she's fucking Hitler reincarnated! Look at that ass! I'm going to go talk to her."

Gavin stopped him.

"Wait. You better listen to why she's insane. I'm going to laugh my ass off if you don't listen to Cole and it turns out she's a psychotic murderer who broke out of prison who lures men into bed and then chops off—"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Michael exclaimed quickly. He looked at me. "Why's the bitch crazy?"

"She thinks we're soulmates. She won't leave me alone. She found me the other day at work and was like all over me…she doesn't understand that I'm dating Emily…"

Michael looked like he was choking.

"You are fucked up, man! Emily is beautiful and all, but that girl is like…sex personified! She was all over you and you _turned her away_?!"

"Hell yeah I turned her away! She's insane! Listen, you of all people would know what went on with my mother and Luke—"

"Yeah, I know." Michael interrupted me, a hard look on his face. "That bastard messed with my woman. I don't know who the hell he thinks is he."

I shuddered. "One: my mother is not and will never be your fucking 'woman' so stop saying it. Two: that girl is that man's daughter."

"Crazy tends to run in families." Gavin nodded.

Michael stared at her, thinking hard.

"Nope, it's definitely still worth it." He decided.

"Fine. But don't come near me when you're with that bitch. I don't want anything to do with her. She's insane." I snapped.

Michael took off across the street, a dreamy look in his face.

"He's going to be rejected." Gavin laughed. We watched Michael approach Caitlyn. She turned around and watched him stutter with a bored expression. Gavin laughed so loudly she looked over at us. I quickly darted behind him, but I think it was too late.

A few minutes later, Michael came stumbling back over to us.

"She said yes. We're going to dinner tomorrow night. And I grabbed her ass and she didn't say _anything_…this is like a dream come true."

"You're really a dick, you know that?" I asked.

"Hey, I'm the dick that has a date with Caitlyn…I can live with that." He said happily.

Gavin echoed my next statement.

"Bitch is definitely crazy."


	7. Motley

**A/n: **Sorry for the wait. I did my best though (you can even check my twitter for proof!). If anyone from New Zealand is reading this (that new Stat thing swears about 3 people from over there read this but I don't know if I believe that. The idea that people from New Zealand read this is just too awesomely cool to believe :D), I apologize if there are any lacks of accuracy. I did hours of research so hopefully there aren't any big mistakes or anything. This is a long chapter so if you don't like that, I apologize. And if you do, YAY! Anyway. Happy readings, hopefully. Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter and thanks to everyone who has stuck with this series for years :) OH and if you care to see pictures of the island and park and boat in this chapter, just head over to my profile :)

* * *

**"Dance, ballerina, dance  
And do your pirouette in rhythm with your achin' heart  
Dance, ballerina, dance  
You mustn't once forget a dancer has to dance the part" -- Nat King Cole, "Ballerina"**

COLE'S POV:

Emily still wasn't out of the studio. Gavin and Michael were talking about something and I was quiet, suddenly feeling very antisocial (probably due to my worrying). What if just asking her to marry me somehow changed everything? What if marriage ruined everything?

What if she said no?

A punch to my shoulder jerked me out of my inner turmoil. I glanced up at Gavin and raised my eyebrows.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to?" Gavin asked. I glanced back at the studio. What was taking so long?

"Want to what? What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, the conversation already losing my focus.

"Come to my house, you trick." Michael leaned closer. "I got some of what we used to drink and smoke and take. I'm thinking a blast from the past party. You guys up for it?"

Gavin grinned. "Definitely. Sharon is visiting her mom in San Francisco tonight so I'll be free."

They both looked at me and for a moment my old self emerged from the rubble he was buried under. For a moment, thinking about how great of an escape from everything it would be and how I was scared shitless, I couldn't quite remember what was wrong with it and why I had stopped in the first place. Most artists of all types did drugs and drank…the most _famous _ones. Maybe that's what I was missing. My mind yearned for the carelessness. A little voice in the back of my mind berated me. It used the word "relapse" over and over again. But relapse from what? And is that such a bad thing?

But something caught my eye across the street and Emily was coming toward me, the sun shining brightly off her hair and I came back to Earth suddenly. I shook my head and turned to Michael and Gavin.

"Not today."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Didn't think so. It's been 'not today' for what? A couple of years?"

"If this doesn't go the way I want it to, I'm sure it'll be today when I get back. Bye. Have fun." I muttered. I climbed into my car and Emily walked around to the passenger seat. The sun was so bright I couldn't hardly see her. Someone knocked sharply on the window. I sighed in annoyance and cracked the door.

"If you expect to get anything tonight you probably should open her door next time." Gavin laughed.

I slammed the door back shut but felt a little worried. I probably should have done that. But I never did…did she expect me to or want me to? I don't open doors or pull out chairs or any of those things that you see in movies. But I never did it because I always assumed she could do it on her own. It's not like she's some wimpy, defenseless creature that can't open doors or pull out chairs. Men and women are supposed to be equal, right?

Emily slid in the car and shut the door.

"Should I open doors for you?" I asked. I glanced at her. Her hair was wet and sticking to her shoulders and she was wearing a t-shirt and denim shorts. She had already slipped her flip flops off and her feet were flexed like they would never straighten out again. Her eyebrows furrowed a little and she smiled slightly.

"What?"

"Do you want me to open doors and pull out chairs and stuff?" I clarified.

She sighed and her feet gradually relaxed. She pulled her legs under her in the seat and leaned against my arm. Her skin was soft against mine and my worry melted. I set a hand on her warm head.

"I like you just the way you are." She answered.

There was a pause.

"Does that mean you think I'm rude?" I asked worriedly.

She squeezed my hand tightly and I could almost see her rolling her eyes.

"No."

She moved back to her seat and I turned the car back on, scanning the constant traffic for an opportunity to pull onto the road. I glanced back at her and she suddenly didn't look as normal as she did before. Her cheeks were a little paler than normal and her eyes glassier.

"How was dance?" I questioned cautiously. She shifted in her seat, turning her face towards the passenger side window. She shrugged, and even the shrug seemed to hold an air of exhaustion and unhappiness. I gave up on trying to fight with this traffic and put the car in park. I leaned back against my seat and decided to just wait until all this traffic calmed down.

"You don't know? Or you don't want to talk about it?"

I listened to the sounds of cars zooming past and horns being pressed repeatedly in retaliation to aggressive drivers, waiting to hear her voice above all the sounds. When I heard nothing, I turned toward her. But she was still facing the window.

"Emily?" I asked, real worry taking over. She suddenly opened the door.

"I left my phone in the studio."

She slammed the door shut and ran to the crosswalk, still barefoot with her wet hair flying behind her in the wind. What the hell?

I rested my forehead against the steering wheel, preparing to give up and stop pushing her to tell me things she didn't want to (if there was even anything to tell) when a cell phone rang. Not my cell phone. I glanced at the cup holder and Emily's phone was sitting there. Did she know it was here and left to get away from me? Or did she really think she left it in the studio?

Either way I decided I should probably follow her. I turned the car off, grabbed her cell phone, and made my way down to the crosswalk. She'd already made it across the road and inside the building. I stood there with the hot sun burning the top of my head uncomfortably for what felt like five minutes before a traffic light slowed the cars and I was able to cross the road.

The studio took up almost an entire block. Half of it was steel and the other glass (the steel was for classes and the glass for studios, if I remembered correctly). The door she went into was glass with a small keypad beside the door. I tried to open it by the handle, but it beeped at me indignantly. I glanced at the keypad, assuming every dancer had a password. I sighed. What would they make their passwords? They probably all used the same type of password (mother's maiden name, first school, favorite teacher…) but I had no way to know which one. I did, however, know the answers to most of the typical questions so I decided to try them.

I tried father's birthplace first. After _625428_ was denied I attempted first school. The keypad rejected that too. I tried her birthday and was extremely surprised when the door clicked open.

The school was _freezing. _Their air conditioning bills are probably up the wall. I had no idea where I was going. The hall was long, gray, and dimly lit, with no doors anywhere I could see. At the very end it branched off into three directions. I walked quietly along, thinking to myself that this had to be one of the eeriest places known to man. I stopped in front of the three way split. I heard what sounded like an angry voice from the right and figured at least that way I'd run into people so I could ask for guidance around this insane place.

This hall was white, but still just as dimly lit as before, if not worse. No windows. But there were a few doors along this wall. They were heavy and wooden. I stopped in front of one and touched the metal doorknob. I pressed my ear against it and waited to see if I heard anything behind it. I didn't hear anything except the loud hum of the air conditioner so I turned the door knob and pushed it open.

This hall must have been for some of the studios. This room was square with mirrors lining all three walls except the back one, which was glass (but currently covered with a heavy black curtain). A wooden pole went along the walls horizontally around the whole room and the hardwood floor was covered in what looked like white power.

I jumped in surprise as the angry voice got louder. I backed towards the door and took one last look at the studio before shutting the door and stepping back into the hallway. I followed the voices toward the very end of it, which led to a giant locker room.

I hesitated outside of the door. This is a _girl's_ locker room. But the angry voice bothered me and it was after classes so I highly doubted I'd walk in on naked ballerinas (and would that really be such a tragedy?).

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the damp, humid room. It was all white tile, from the floors to the ceilings to the walls. There were drains in many places among the floors. The room was large and rectangular. Directly across from the door was a long wall covered with lockers. I wondered which was Emily's (if she even used this dressing room). Individual showers took up most the rest of the room, with a few sinks and mirrors squeezed in between the showers and door. Most the showers were curtain-less, but there were a few with white curtains pushed back. There was a long bench in front of the lockers. And sitting on the very end of the long bench, almost completely out of eyesight due to the woman standing directly in front of her, was Emily.

For a second I thought Emily was screaming at the woman, but the woman opened her mouth and started screaming again. Neither of them noticed me. Emily was staring at the floor and the woman had her back to me.

"—you'd think after an hour's worth of pirouettes you'd start to improve and behave! I'm so sick of you disrupting classes and holding us back! Everyone else's Grand jeté is beautiful and somehow yours is still sloppy and unrefined. Have you been practicing like I've instructed?"

She didn't even pause long enough for Emily to respond.

"When we would warm up using adagio you were always the best! You had such grace and elegance and now I get nothing from you of the sort! Your plies are stiff and out of rhythm and your arabesques are, if I may say so, horrendous! Your lack of beauty in ballet is tearing the entire group down!"

I felt like maybe I was shocked lifeless. I waited with grim satisfaction for the woman to get her head ripped off. She must have never seen Emily furious before. She would deserve everything that was coming to her.

But Emily stayed small and pale and motionless. She kept her head bowed and only whispered two words.

"I'm sorry."

The woman laughed and I found myself backing out of the locker room. I leaned against the wall and tried to ignore the faint sounds of this woman explaining to Emily why she's a failure. My anger was rising but I tried to control it. Emily can fight her own battles just as she did with her mother. She doesn't need me getting all pushy and annoying and bursting in there. She is a strong person who makes her own choices and does what is best for her.

So then what just happened? If all that was true, if she was as strong and independent as I knew her to be, why was she letting that woman say those things without even fighting back?

Suddenly, a strong instinct overtook my common sense. It was really, in essence, a very barbaric instinct: the instinct to protect what belongs to you.

I didn't even hear footsteps. The door was pushed open and I hid behind it as Emily emerged. She walked forward, not even daring to look back, her shoulder slumped forward and her hair finally dry, but somehow looking lank and beaten down, just as she had to have felt. She had never looked so small to me, as if maybe she was pulling everything into herself because she didn't feel she deserved to be taking up so much space in the world. It hurt my head and made my fingers itch for a paintbrush. The poetic justice of pain is that it makes the most amazing art.

The woman stormed out of the room and directly into a studio beside the room she was just hurting the woman I wanted to marry in. I tried to breathe, to fight against the instinct, but instinct was paired with genetics (you'd be hard done to find men more protective than my father and grandfather). I walked to the door, opened it, and walked in.

The studio was identical to the one I'd ventured into previously. The woman was doing some sort of ballet movement and jumped when she heard the door slam. My appearance frightened her.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice wavering and her hand reaching for her cell phone.

"Calm down. I'm not a murderer"—although maybe I wish I was at this moment—"I'm Emily Oken's boyfriend. I just want to talk to you." I explained slowly and calmly. She relaxed.

"Yes, okay, what has that girl said to you?" She snapped, going back to her previous action.

Genetics took over.

"I think the real question is: what the hell have you been saying to her?" I hissed.

She spun around. "I can assure you, Emily's boyfriend, that I do not have any idea what you are talking about."

"And I can assure you that you sure as fuck know what I'm talking about."

The effects of a loud voice were nice in this studio. It echoed loudly and sounded a lot more threatening. She stopped spinning and narrowed her eyes.

"I do not like your tone. I am her dance instructor. I have to instruct her. That is what I have been doing."

"I may not know anything about dance but I do know verbally abusing her is not fucking helping her or instructing her. If you have a problem with the way she dances, help her by showing her how to do it correctly. Don't tell her she can't dance beautifully enough to make you guys look good because it's sure as hell not true, you bitch." Have I ever been this angry? It doesn't feel like it.

"And don't you dare come into _my _studio and start telling me how to teach _my _students!" Her voice shook as it got higher. "I know what I'm doing. She doesn't."

"If her dancing is suffering it's because of _you_. I've known her my entire life and what you're saying here is changing her! So don't complain about her being different because you're the evil person who is making her change! I bet you say these things to her every day! I don't know what your problem is with Emily but—"

She interrupted me.

"My problem is that she doesn't take dance seriously."

"Like hell she doesn't! Do you live with her? Do you spend any time with her besides when you are insulting her? No! I, on the other hand, do and I can tell you dancing is very important to her! She does take it seriously!" I screamed.

The woman turned her back to me.

"I would like you to leave my studio, Emily's boyfriend." She whispered threateningly.

"I have a name. It's Cole Ryan. I only tell you that because you _will _hear from me—"

She spun around, her eyes wide and excited. She studied my face for the first time. "Cole _Ryan_? Jake Ryan's son?! Emily never told me—"

"And why the _fuck _would she tell you anything?! Yes. My father is Jake Ryan and my mother is Hannah Montana. If you do not leave Emily alone I swear to God I will talk to every reporter and paparazzo I and my parents can find and I will tell them what is going on at this studio, and then I will hire the best fucking lawyer in the country to sue you for all you're worth. Do you understand the words I'm saying? I would assume you would because they are your kind of words. The hurtful and threatening type."

She seemed at a loss for words for once. I continued.

"And if you ever tell Emily about this, the same threat is extended."

She smiled suddenly and stepped forward.

"Surely you aren't _blackmailing _me, Mr. Ryan?"

"No. I'm not. I'm offering to give you a second change to stop abusing students before I take legal action against you."

She rolled her eyes and walked out with an air of insult. What a bitch. I stayed in the studio for a few extra minutes to let my anger simmer down a little. I walked around the studio. I was running my hand along that random bar when Emily entered. She had her arms crossed tightly (again as if she were trying to impose herself upon as little amount of space as the universe would allow) and her eyes were red rimmed. She walked slowly over to me. She extended her arm slowly and set her hand on the bar. I watched it tighten around it.

"It's called a ballet barre." She whispered.

I nodded, what just happened imposing an uncomfortable weight between us. I had to remind myself that she didn't know that I knew anything happened. Would she tell me what happened? Or would she not? And if she doesn't, does that mean it's happened many times before and she didn't tell me then either?

"What is it used for?" I asked. She ran her hand along the smooth wood thoughtfully.

"To hold for balance while practicing. How did you get in here?"

"I know your birthday." I smiled. "I was looking for you. Your phone was in the car."

She nodded and traced a line on the barre that was darker than the other wood.

"Sorry. I've been kind of zoned out lately." She muttered softly. I looked at her intently until she looked up and met my gaze.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She smiled and broke our eye contact, looking back at the barre.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

I stared at the profile of her downturned face.

"I don't know." I lied.

* * *

She was so "zoned out" that she didn't even notice anything strange about where I was driving until we pulled into the Los Angeles International Airport parking lot. The drive took less time than expected. It usually takes about an hour to get to Los Angeles but it only took around forty-five minutes this time. I was starving. My heart was hammering as I was now focused on the task at hand again (which was gaining her hand in marriage). She lifted her head up from where it was resting on the window and looked around in confusion.

"Why are we here?"

I put off answering until I was in a parking spot. I parked the car, glanced at the clock (Five. We had two hours and thirty minutes until the flight boarded), and turned it off. Then, I reached into the pocket of my khaki shorts and pulled out our plane tickets. I handed Emily's to her, holding my breath.

There was a long pause.

"New Zealand?" She whispered. She looked at me.

"Yes." I pushed my worry away and smiled. "Do you remember when we were little and used to pretend to run away there?"

She nodded wordlessly, her lips parting and her eyes wide, staring at the ticket.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me.

"Will you run away with me?" I whispered. Rain started falling lightly from the sky and it pittered and pattered against the roof of the car. Somehow the humidity of the oncoming rain intensified the smell of her shampoo and it wrapped its arms around me. She leaned against me and seemed to relax her body for the first time today. I expected millions of questions from her (What about work? What about my father? What about money? Do you have my passport and bags? Why?) but she surprised me.

"Yes." She murmured. Maybe she was done with questions and rational thinking. Or maybe she just really needed to escape. The rain began pounding against the car and she kissed me. Kissing her drove all factual and logical thoughts from my head and brought along a different kind of thinking.

She pulled away too soon.

"Where in New Zealand are we going?" She asked.

"South Island. Abel Tasman National Park, to be more specific. It has beaches that—"

"—are so beautiful it takes your breath away." Emily finished. The first real smile I'd seen on her face all day graced her and I felt more encouraged.

She glanced back at her ticket.

"We have a while until boarding time. What should we do?"

Sex and eating were on the top of my suggestions, but unfortunately, both were unattainable. Damn.

"Maybe you should go through the bags I packed and narrow it down to what you need." I suggested.

"How many did you pack?" She asked, a trace of humor in her voice.

"Um…I packed everything of yours. My mom told me to. So maybe…" I trailed off.

"Where are they?" She glanced in the back as if she expected them to pop up. The rain and fogged up windows were making my nineteen year old boy mind a little less cleaner. A brief mental image of her in my backseat flashed in front of my eyes. I entertained the image until certain problems began to _rise _and then I thought of dead puppies which worked most the time.

"Trunk. I'll get them." I suggested quickly. The cold rain seemed like a good idea.

She frowned.

"You'll get all wet."

I resisted the urge to tell her that either way I would and quickly assured her it would be okay. I took my time pulling her bags out and throwing them into the backseat. She climbed back there to sort while I sat back in the driver's seat and shivered.

"How long are we staying?" She asked, waist deep in clothes.

"About a week, give or take a few days." I replied. The rain slowed down a bit and my stomach dominated the silence with loud, angry growls. I want some chicken or steak or hot wings. Right now.

She reduced the four bags to one. The rain had stopped a few minutes prior, so we gathered everything, locked the car, and made our way to the airport. LAX was always crowded and busy but I found it even more annoying today. I longed for the secluded beauty of the beaches. We handed over all our bags except one small one to be stored under the plane but it still took us an hour to get through security (our carryon held things to make the time go by because the flight was going to be sixteen hours). I think the female cop liked me because she was trying very hard to get me to take my clothes off. Apparently my wallet looked like a gun. Right. We ate after suffering through security (I ended up getting chicken, steak, AND hot wings. Life is good) and by that time it was almost time to board the plane.

"Flight NZ0001 Air New Zealand gate N is now boarding!"

I grabbed the bag and Emily and I stood up, pulling out our tickets.

"First class first!" The person standing in front of the hall that led onto the plane wheezed. I started forward and Emily gaped.

"First class?! We have _first class tickets_? How much did that cost?"

If I was being honest, it was six thousand for both of us just to go there. But I wasn't going to tell her that.

"A fair amount. Come on, we need to board."

She unwillingly walked forward, suspicion showing in her brown eyes. She didn't relax until we were seated in the extremely comfortable chairs. No one else was flying first class so we had it all to ourselves.

"This feels like a recliner!" She exclaimed excitedly. I liked that I was able to let her experience a trip like this.

Emily fell asleep in my lap six hours later. For that whole six hours we played a strange version of poker with a battered pack of cards. Since we shared money ultimately, we betted random things. I owe her a red sock and she owes me a bottle of water. A movie came on and she moved over here, where she fell asleep almost instantly.

Her head was resting against my shoulder and her legs were pulled up to her chest. Her shorts showed plenty of leg and I stroked my hand down the side of her leg as she drifted off. The skin was smooth and soft and her hair smelled so good.

The movie ended and a flight attendant spread a soft blanket over us. I allowed exhaustion to overcome me finally. It was a good sleep.

When I woke up, we were in Christchurch, New Zealand.

* * *

It was cooler here, but not an unpleasant coolness. It was just right. The sun was warm but the breeze was cool.

Emily looked a little sleepy and declined breakfast. She rested with her head in her arms while I ate. I hoped she wasn't getting sick. It was probably just jet lag. New Zealand was nineteen hours ahead of us. I felt a strange mixture of drowsiness, excitement, and anticipation, but that didn't hinder on my appetite. Nothing really ever did.

After breakfast, we located our bags, and went to buy our next plane ticket. Everyone here had easily the coolest accents in the history of the world. We had to fly to Nelson Airport from here. The closest flight was, thankfully, twenty minutes later. We handed over the bags and sat in seats to wait for the flight. Emily crawled back up into my lap wordlessly and buried her face in my neck. Her breathing evened out five minutes before time to board the flight. I gently shook her and she stumbled to her feet, the skin around her eyes darker than normal and her skin paler.

"Are you okay?" I whispered as we settled into our seats. This plane was very tiny and had only one class of seating. She nodded and yawned. I was used to fighting sleepiness.

This flight was shorter. Emily slept through most of it and I struggled against the urge, knowing it'd only make me sleepier. I thought about waking her up a lot of times but I couldn't bring myself to. Her thick eyelashes rested softly against her light skin and she looked so beautiful and peaceful.

The rest of the day was in a kind of mechanic, sleepy haze. From Nelson Airport we rented a rental car and, after getting a local to write out directions for us, we drove to our hotel located in the Abel Tasman National Park area. Once there, we got our room card, and headed up to the room.

Our room was on the tenth floor and overlooked the Golden Bay. It had a circular living room with a wicker couch with white cushions and glass doors to the balcony that took over the entire south wall. The glass French doors were already open, and the light breeze was making the white cushions flutter gently. There were two wicker chairs with the same white cushions on the balcony. The bedroom had a low bed covered in soft, white bedding, and a giant window facing towards the Bay. The bathroom was clean and the same color as all the other rooms: ocean blue.

"It's beautiful." Emily sounded awake now. We set our bags down in the living room and immediately sat in the chairs on the balcony. The water was so blue I couldn't even believe it no matter how long I stared at it. It was so blue it made the color of this hotel room look weak and faded. It was also so clear that you could see the sand at the bottom until it got deeper. The sand was truly golden, not dirty off-white like the sand on the beaches in Malibu. And mountains framed the picture in the distance, puffy, white clouds around their peaks like crowns.

"Are we gonna go down there?" Emily asked.

"Why don't we get unpacked and get over this jet lag and we can go down there tomorrow?" I suggested. I didn't want my plan unfolding while she was half asleep. She yawned and nodded.

We spent the next few hours struggling to stay awake. We sat and talked about pointless things until midnight New Zealand time (which was really 5 AM the previous day back in Malibu) and took to yanking on each other's hands when the other would drift off. Finally, when midnight rolled around, we drudged to the bedroom and crawled into the comfortable bed. We fell asleep immediately.

* * *

**"Emily, sweet baby, won't you be my wife?" -- Adam Green, "Emily".**

I woke up at eleven AM the next morning. I rolled over only to find an empty bed. I listened and could hear soft music coming from the other room. I took a shower and got dressed, picking clothes to wear that looked best on me (so naturally I ended up shirtless and in swim trunks). Then I packed a bag for what we'd need today. The last thing I grabbed was the ring. I grabbed a paper bag and put the box inside of that. I rolled the paper bag and hid it in a barely visible pocket inside the bag.

Emily smiled at me when I walked into the room. She looked a lot better than she did yesterday. Her cheeks were raspberry again and she seemed livelier.

"Hey." I greeted.

"Hi." She smiled. I hugged her.

"What are we doing today?" She asked, an excited smile on her face. I grinned.

"You'll see. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"I had a Poptart. Please tell me what we're doing today!" She begged. I was so anxious to go that I had two packs of Poptarts instead of a good breakfast. She begged me to tell her throughout the three minutes it took me to consume the breakfast.

"Please, C-dizzle?" She whispered, giving me a look that I definitely couldn't resist.

"We're renting a boat." I informed her. She smiled happily.

"Are we going now?" She asked. I laughed and kissed her. It felt like years since I'd kissed her even though I kissed her goodnight last night. I pulled back reluctantly.

"Yes. Bring something to sleep in and a change of clothes." I replied. She frowned.

"Why?"

I turned my back to her to hide my smile.

"Because we're sleeping on the boat."

* * *

Emily had many questions.

I answered them to the best of my abilities as we drove down to the marina where the boat I'd already reserved to rent was waiting. The drive was really beautiful. The trees were so green that it made me wonder if all the nature in California was dimmed. Everything was so vibrant here.

Her nervous questions faded to excitement when we pulled up to the marina. I parked and grabbed our bags and she bounced along beside me, looking even more beautiful surrounded by the bright greens and blues and golds. I hadn't seen her smile so widely in a long time and it made my heart do weird things.

We walked into the small, wooden building. It was crowded in here, even with only one person behind the counter. Emily looked around while I went to talk business.

"I have a boat reserved. It should be under Ryan." I explained. The woman nodded and checked the computer beside her.

"You rented the Ocean Trawler?"

I nodded.

"And you're tying the boat up at the Adele Island dock overnight?" She asked.

"Yes. Do you have a map that I could have?"

She nodded and opened a drawer.

"Do you know how to drive a boat?"

"Mostly. Do you have a sort of safety—"

She interrupted me. She pushed two thick booklets into my hands.

"That's a detailed map of how to get to each dock, and that's a list of basic handling rules for your boat. If you'll head out back, Johnny will get you two some lifejackets and show you how to untie and tie the boat from the docks." She muttered with a sigh, as if she had to repeat this all the time. I nodded and took Emily's hand, pulling her away from the scuba diving poster.

"Is that our boat?!" She exclaimed. We were standing in front of a giant white boat with a large, open port bow and two levels. The bottom had small windows all around it and must have been the interior housing part of the boat. The top was an open area where the steering area was. There were two comfy white seats in front of the controls and a breezy umbrella like cover to the top floor. Just behind the steering area was a nice wooden table with five chairs. A ladder led from the back of the first level up to the second, beside where the tables and chairs were. I couldn't see the interior from here, but I'd looked at pictures online. It was all wooden with a living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom.

"Yep, that's it."

For the next thirty minutes I got an intense briefing on handling a boat and the dangers of being on the open sea. I made sure I was completely clear on all the instructions before telling Johnny we were ready to go. We threw our bags and lifejackets into the boat and walked on. The wind picked up and the water looked even bluer. The boat was unsteady as we walked across it and it rocked back and forth. We climbed up the ladder and into the steering area. I sat in front of the controls and Emily sat beside me, her jaw dropping as she looked out on the ocean. The view from up here really was spectacular.

My panic was resurfacing. I put all my focus into steering the boat. Emily held the map and helped steer us toward Adele Island. We got lost many times because I would glance over at Emily and accidentally take a turn opposite from the direction she had said to go. She just looked so beautiful. She had a deep green one-piece bathing suit on with a white skirt and even though she wasn't showing as much skin as she used to, I appreciated the view. The sun shining brightly against her and her hair flying back as the wind hit us was more captivating than the beautiful surroundings.

"Cole,"

Emily smiled at me and gently grabbed my hands. She moved into my lap and steered my hands in the direction they should have been going (I kept steering toward the left because she was on my left and I guess my hands were magnetized toward her). Without really thinking about it, I wrapped my arms around her. She turned in my arms so she was sitting on my legs with her legs on either side of me. I kissed her deeply. I pulled her closer and her mouth tasted tingly (probably because of the soda she'd been drinking). She reached over and grabbed the clutch, pulling it down to neutral. The boat slowed and she wound her hands in my hair. My heart was beating and a lot of things were up, if you get my drift. The only sounds were her breathing and our lips and the motor and the water splashing around the boat. Her hands moved to my chest right when I moved mine to the back of her knees. I felt like this situation was a ticking bomb and I wanted to make the best of my time but I couldn't rush anything. My hand stroked slowly up the back of her thigh. She broke the kiss suddenly, resting her face against the top of my head and breathing deeply. I ran my hand over her bathing suit clad bottom while the other held onto one of the arms of the chair. The material of her bathing suit was slick and she was perfect. Everything about her was (especially including her ass and legs).

"Cole," She panted softly. Oh God. "We're going too far," She continued.

Yes we are, and it is great.

"I know," I leaned my mouth forward and kissed her neck. She suddenly stiffened.

"No! I mean we're getting too close to the shore!" She suddenly screamed. She spun around so fast her hair smacked my face and she jumped off my lap, grabbing the steering wheel. She turned it sharply to the left. I was stunned and flushed and definitely not able to stand up. I stayed immobile, looking out at the shore. We had almost slammed into the beach beside the dock we were trying to get to.

Emily sighed when she got the boat to a stop beside the dock. There was a pause.

"We found the dock!" I exclaimed.

She turned to look at me and laughed, her cheeks darker than I'd ever seen before. I laughed along with her and for that moment suddenly the world looked bigger and friendlier and I felt like I had a million options. I felt like I could go anywhere and do anything but that I would only go and only do things that involved being with Emily because while the world is big, I don't want anything to do with the parts that don't have her in them.

Once I calmed down, I anchored the boat and tied it to the dock. Emily climbed down the ladder and entered the cabin area. I breathed in the cool, salty air before following her.

The first room was the living room/kitchen area. It was a large, rectangular room. The back wall was small and held a small hallway. It had a very homey but expensive look to it. The white leather sofa was made into the western wall (it was under the many windows that each had different color curtains) and colorful rugs covered the wood floors. A wooden coffee table was in front of the sofa and across from the sofa, on the eastern wall, was a nice kitchen table. We walked past this and entered the tiny kitchen area. It had L shaped cabinet structures and all the normal appliances you'd see in a regular kitchen. The little hallway had one room to the right and one at the end. We walked into the one on the right. It had a small daybed and a large TV that was inside a big cubby that was made into the wall. A bright, colorful quilt rested on the back of the daybed. We left that room and ventured into the last room, the master bedroom. A large bed took up most the space, with cabinets and counters made into the walls surrounding it. Candles covered the open surface of the counters and there was a large window over the bed. The blanket was a colorful quilt like that on the daybed, and there was an air conditioning vent on the side of a cabinet. A small, sliding door led to the last room (a bathroom with a shower and toilet and functional plumbing). From the bathroom there was a small door that led to a tiny room with a washing machine and dyer shoved in.

Emily grabbed my hand and we walked back into the bedroom. We fell onto the bed and she crawled into my arms.

"It's beautiful." She whispered.

I kissed her, hoping it would lead to what happened on the deck, which would be better down here in the bed. Unfortunately, she pulled away. She propped her elbow up on the bed and rested the side of her face in her hand.

"Can we go swimming?"

I kissed her freckled nose.

"I don't know. Can we?" I teased.

She sighed and moved closer to me, winding her arms around me. She looked up at me from under her eyelashes.

"Will you please go swimming with me?" She rephrased.

"Of course I will and can." I grinned.

She sat up, her hair askew but somehow still as gorgeous as before. She crawled off the bed and sprinted out of the cabin. I followed her, shamelessly checking her out as she ran ahead of me.

We made sure the boat was secured and then climbed onto the dock. The island was deserted and void of anything except sand, rocks, trees, and water. I thought we might run into a few kayakers but there were none.

We kicked off our shoes and left them on the dock, walking through the warm sand on the beach. The sun was warm and pleasant against my shoulders and head. We walked towards the shore so the clear, blue water covered our toes. It was a great temperature. Emily pulled off her skirt and I couldn't tear my eyes from her as we entered the picturesque ocean. I pulled her against me once it was up to our shoulders and held her there, shutting my eyes so I could just feel instead of see. I cleared my mind so I could feel instead of think and analyze and somehow this intensified everything. The water felt cooler and lighter as it pushed gently against me and her body felt stronger and softer against mine than before.

"I love you." I whispered. I listened to waves and the slight sound of our intakes of breath. I considered asking her now, while the moment was so perfect, but I held out.

"I love you too." Her voice sounded slightly surprised. I didn't know what to make of this.

We swam as far out as we felt comfortable going and stayed out there until the sun started dimming. We swam back and I sat in the shallow water of the shore. She sat between my legs and leaned against me.

"Today was amazing." She whispered.

"It's not over yet." I warned.

She reached back and gently touched my jaw. Her touch sent chills down my spine. She turned my head in the direction of the falling sun.

"It's almost over." She sighed.

She was right. The sun was getting close to setting and with it came fear of the unknown. When the sun rose again we would either be engaged or confused and hurt. It all rested on how I asked her and how she felt about me.

I stood up and I pulled her with me.

"Where are we going?" She asked. We grabbed our shoes and got back on the boat.

"Sailing around until bedtime. Then we'll come back and tie and anchor the boat and go to sleep." I replied. She nodded. We went into the bedroom and got dry clothes. She changed in the bathroom and I changed in the bedroom. I pulled the ring box out of the bag and checked to make sure the ring was in place.

Then I put it in my pocket.

I nervously paced and combed my hair and sprayed on cologne while I waited for Emily to get finished dressing. My heart was jogging and I was trying to breathe deeply to calm myself down but that was only making me panic even more. This suddenly seemed like a stupid idea. We're nineteen for God's sake. She has always been against the idea of teen marriage and here I am, proposing to her...

The scared part of me wanted to back out. I wanted to put the ring back and just wait to ask her until we were older. But the part of me that knew that age didn't matter—that thought of her first every morning and last every night—said that would be pathetic. It said that the time is right now. And somehow I trusted that part more. Maybe because I knew people made bad and illogical decisions when they were frightened (especially when frightened for their lives or drastic change). But similarly, people make bad decisions when they're "blind" from love. Is there even a right choice here? Or do I just have to trust my heart or mind? Which one?

I sat on the end of the bed and wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. I buried my face in my hands to try and _think. _ I needed things to make sense; I needed to do the right thing.

"Cole?" Emily called. I lifted my head.

"Yeah?"

"My hair smells like the ocean so I'm going to take a shower. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need." I called back, distractedly. I heard the water start and I realized I needed someone to tell me I wasn't making a mistake. I needed someone to tell me she was going to say yes and that this wouldn't ruin everything.

I moved off the bed and onto the floor beside the bag. I looked through it until I found my phone. I tapped the call icon twice and it automatically called home.

I walked out onto the cockpit and leaned against the side of the boat. The sun was getting farther and farther down in the sky. If I wanted to do this the way I'd planned we'd have to hurry up. After an insufferable length of ringing, someone finally picked up. There was a silence.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hellooooo," One of the twins sang into the phone. Whoever it was giggled.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"Who is thissss?" She mocked, drawing out the words in a sing song voice. Definitely Odette.

"Odette. Where are Mom and Dad and why are you answering the phone?"

"HI DUMB HEAD! Mommy and Daddy are here." Odette replied in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Hi. Can you give the phone to one of them?" I inquired very patiently (especially seeing as though my future basically depended on her cooperating).

"Nope!" She giggled again.

"Why not?" I questioned carefully.

"Because I don't wannaaaa!" She trilled off.

I took a deep breath.

"Odette, please give the phone to one of them. This is important." I muttered, this time my voice a little harder.

"Soooorry! Mommy and Daddy aren't here right now! Leave a message after the beep…._BEEEEEEP_!"

"Odette! You just said they were there!" I exclaimed.

She giggled. "Well then I musta lied!"

"Are they there or not?" I demanded.

"Of course they are, dumb head! You really _are _dumb!" She laughed.

"Please." I begged.

"Okay. I'll get daddy." Then it sounded like she was rubbing the phone against carpet. She came back, this time with a deepened voice. "Hello. This is Jake Ryan. What do you want?"

"Yeah right, little sis. Dad would greet with something like 'This is the amazingly wonderful Jake Ryan'. You still have a lot to learn. Now seriously, runt. GIVE THE PHONE TO A PARENT."

"Why do you need them?" She asked innocently.

"Because I need to ask them something." I pushed the words out through clenched teeth.

"Well why won't you ask me?" She asked.

"Because you're just barely out of toddler status." I muttered.

"I do not like your tone, mister. That isn't any way to talk to a future Broadway star. Daddy says one day my signature will be worth lots of money! People will be begging to get advice from me!!" She screamed happily.

"Yeah well right now you're just the barely-potty-trained little sister so forgive me if I don't hold much in store by any advice you give." I snapped.

There was a pause.

"That wasn't very nice, dumb head." She cried dramatically.

"Neither is calling me dumb head!"

"Fine. Please tell me, big broffer?" She pleaded innocently.

Oh my God. I've lost my mind. I took a deep breath.

"I want to ask Emily to marry me but I don't know if that's a good idea." I muttered.

"Of course that's a good idea, why wouldn't it be?" She asked curiously.

"Because we're young."

"Me and Tommy are gonna get married when we're fifth graders."

"Right. Okay. Give the phone to Mom or Dad." I ordered, wondering why I'd even attempted to get rational advice from a little kid.

"Do you love Emily?" She asked in an impatient voice.

"Yes." I answered automatically.

"Then why wouldn't you marry her?" She asked.

I started to answer before stopping, because I wasn't really sure of a real reason.

"What if she says no?" I asked.

"Then you threaten to take her first born child and ask her again!" Odette exclaimed.

What the hell?

"I'm just kidding, dum—big broffer. If she loves you too she'll say yes. Now, I have auditions waiting for me so I have to go. It was great talking to you. Good day!"

The phone clicked off and I shook my head. I turned out surprisingly normal compared to her. Adeline will probably turn out to be the sanest of us all. She actually understands her own age.

When Emily appeared, I knew I was going to do it. I had so much to lose by doing it, but everything to gain and good things come with sacrifices.

"Who were you talking to?" She asked curiously. She walked toward me.

"Odette. That kid is insane." I laughed. I turned around and we pulled the anchor up and untied the boat from the dock. We climbed the ladder and started the motor. My heart was pounding as I drove us toward the falling sun. Soon it would be the sunset. Once I started feeling nauseous, I stopped the boat. I turned it off so we were floating and part of me that was still sane was worried that I wouldn't be able to find our way back to the dock once it was dark.

"Are you ready for dinner?" I asked Emily. I had been previously but now I was so nauseous I might just faint. She shrugged.

"I'm okay."

The sun began to set. The water took on a golden hue. _Do it now, _my mind encouraged. But it was like doing a speech at school. The teacher called for volunteers and you always knew you should go just to get it over with but you were too scared. Your palms sweat and your heart races and every time they call out the next person you pray the name isn't yours. But eventually it is and you spend all that extra time worried about yours when you could have been relaxing and listening to everyone else's.

_Do it_.

"The water is so beautiful," She breathed. And it was. She climbed down the ladder and sat on the edge of the cockpit, looking at the water. I don't think I'll ever forget the picture. Emily, with her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail, her bare feet swinging back and forth, white cotton shorts, and a royal purple tanktop. Emily, with the beautiful golden ocean behind her and the sky streaked with yellows and oranges and pinks and reds. Emily, with a smile across her face that seemed indestructible. Emily.

I sank down onto my left knee (_was it the left? Or right? Is there even a knee? Am I on the wrong one? Will she notice?_).

"Emily," I whispered. She turned around, the smile freezing in place as her eyes fell upon me. And I could tell in her mind she was running through all the reasons I would be on my knee in front of her because surely I wouldn't propose.

My heart was beating so fast I was dizzy. My stomach was so queasy I was afraid I'd chuck it all over this boat. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my hands, but it wasn't working. Why hadn't someone told me how fucking scary this is? How do I even do this?

I pushed a shaking hand into my pocket and pulled the ring box out. I couldn't look at her expression. I kept it clenched in my hand (_why didn't I open it? She's going to think I'm stupid. I should have opened it. But if I do it now I'll look clumsy.). _I glanced up at her. Her brown eyes had even more green in them today and they were very wide. Her coral lips were parted slightly and her dark eyebrows were slightly raised. Her blush was the same though and that gave me courage.

What do I say? (_Just say _something. _You look like an idiot!) _

I knew what I wanted to say: the speech I had subconsciously worked so hard on. The speech that told her how much she meant to me and how amazing she was and how much I loved her. I had practiced it so much in my head...but as I looked into her beautiful eyes, something completely different came out. My voice was shaking when I spoke.

"You once told me you wanted to get married in a field of wild flowers with your true love. If you want, I'll spend the rest of my life with you and I'll be the true love marrying you in the field of wild flowers. Can I be?" I was shaking so much I thought I might pass out. I had never felt so insecure in my entire life. "Nothing would make me happier." I whispered.

I immediately started trashing myself in my mind, fearing that what I said made no sense to her and that she wouldn't get it. My fears were confirmed when I received no reaction. I felt off balance and my heart was lodged somewhere around my esophagus, where it was beating against my throat viciously. She just kept looking at me with that shocked expression, staring at the ring box as if she were imagining it. Just when I thought I was honestly going to vomit, she said something.

"I…Cole…I'm so sorry." She whispered, her eyes watery and her voice thick. My heart dropped to my toes and I couldn't move or think as failure and humiliation seeped into every vein and every muscle.

I felt like maybe this is what she felt like when I asked her. I couldn't seem to get myself to move or talk or do anything but sit there, soaking in the disappointment. _No. _

"Okay." I finally whispered.

She stared at me and grasped the side of the boat she was perched on. She slowly slid onto the ground and kneeled in front of me.

"It's not because…I…" She stopped and started again. "I love you too much to marry you, Cole." She struggled out.

I set the ring on the floor of the boat. What did it even matter now?

"How do you figure that one?" I finally asked. She stared at me with a tortured expression, her eyes wet and wide and her face paler than I've ever seen it. The comfort of her blush had evaporated. She fell back onto her bottom and pulled her knees up to her chest. I fell back too.

"It wouldn't be fair to you." She breathed. She avoided my eyes, looking everywhere but me. "I can't be what you need. I can't be your wife. I don't even know if I can be your girlfriend, but I am because it's the only thing that makes sense." She admitted.

I stared at her, struggling to understand.

"Of course you are what I need…I can't live without you. That's why I want to be your husband, Emily. You yourself told my mom you didn't think we were very temporary. Do you not think we love each other enough to get married?" I asked.

She shook her head quickly, meeting my eyes."No, no. I think that I love you too much to do that to you. I…Cole…" she stopped and looked away. She blinked away tears. This was not the way I wanted this to go. Not at all. "I am not well. You don't even know who you are proposing to. I can't be your wife because I can't have sex with you. It wouldn't be fair for me to commit myself to marrying you if I can't even…" She stopped and sniffed. I sat in confusion and shock, waiting for her to continue. "I wasn't honest with you, Cole. The reason I can't…the reason…I hate myself!" She suddenly exclaimed. She sobbed and I wasn't sure what to do. What did she mean? She wiped her eyes. "I am ashamed for anyone to see me naked, that's the real reason. I never told you because I knew you'd think that was ridiculous! It's not because I think I'll get pregnant and it's not because of my whore of a mother—it's all me. It's always been. I wake up and I feel okay but when the day gets going I think that I would give _anything _to be someone else, someone better. I'm sick of being second-rate and not being good enough! I'm sick of having an unattractive body and face and God, sometimes I'm sick of living!"

Her eyes looked haunted and she was shaking just as much as I was before. My heart felt like maybe someone had pressed a redhot poker to it. How had I missed this? How long had this gone on? Everything seemed to make sense now: her meal skipping and the way she didn't change or take showers at the studio and why she backed away whenever her clothes started to come off. Was it my fault? Did I not compliment her enough? How could she think these things about herself?

She avoided my eyes, looking thoroughly ashamed at herself. I was speechless.

"Emily…how long have you felt like this?" I finally asked.

She sniffed. "A little over a year."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, her pain hurting me.

"Because it just sounds so pathetic, Cole. I wish you knew how it _felt. _I feel like I'm not pretty enough for you and that you'll be disappointed in what you got." She guiltily admitted. She wiped fresh tears off her cheeks. "And when I saw my mother it brought back even more feelings. I want to be more in life than her but when I saw her it was like seeing me and I don't want to be like that! I want to be beautiful and good and, above all, I just want to be the one that deserves you."

"You do deserve me, Emily. You don't see yourself the way I see you. I wish I could show you how I see you. You are not unattractive at all. Nothing about you is and ever will be. Even Michael thinks you're beautiful, and he's tough to please. You are honestly the prettiest and sexiest and smartest and nicest girl I've ever met in my entire life. And I love you. I really do. I love you and I want you to be my wife. I want to help you. We don't have to get married until you feel better, until you're comfortable enough to have sex with me and feel ready for marriage. I don't care if we wait ten years. I just want to be able to say we're going to be married one day. I'm going to help you see yourself the way I and the rest of the world see you. Even if you decide you don't want to marry me, even if you decide you don't want to date, I'm still going to help you because I value you too much to let you hurt yourself." I whispered. She broke out into more sobs. "And as for me not knowing who I'm proposing to…do you really believe that? I love and know you better than anyone else and you know it. Emily, I know exactly who I'm proposing to. I'm proposing to the gorgeous girl I've known my entire life who understands me better than anyone else. I'm proposing to the girl who loves me just as much as I love her, the girl who makes it impossible to have a bad day when she's around. I'm proposing to the girl who dances like an angel, is smarter than I can ever hope to be, and inspires me every day I'm with her. I'm proposing to the girl who can make me laugh no matter what and who supports me strongly. I'm proposing to the girl who showed me who I really am." I paused when tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes. She was staring at her lap, her head bowed. Her hands were clasped in her lap and tears leaked from her shut eyes. This wasn't the way I imagined her crying at all. I imagined happy tears, not these ashamed, sad tears. I reached over and took her hand and continued in a softer voice. "I'm proposing to the girl who is amazing at every single thing she ever does, but doubts herself because she is verbally abused on a daily basis by her dance instructor."

Emily looked up quickly at that. Her tear-filled eyes looked confused and ashamed. I stood up and sat on the edge of the boat, pulling her with me. We sat above the golden water and I wrapped my arms around her. How can it be possible to love someone so much?

I finished my speech softly, my chin resting on the top of her head.

"I'm proposing to my best friend."

She let out a sob and moved suddenly to be in my lap. The sudden movement pushed me backwards, and before I could even yell out, we went falling into the ocean. The water was pretty cold and I went down so far I almost felt like I was going to touch the floor. I just kept falling deeper and deeper. Finally I began to rise. I gasped when my head broke the surface and I looked all around for Emily. I found her swimming a few feet away. I moved over to her. The setting sun made the water molten gold and she looked breathtaking. As soon as I reached her she threw her arms around me. We struggled to hold ourselves afloat just by kicking our legs. I moved us over to the boat and I grabbed the ladder while she held onto me and cried.

"Yes," She finally whispered into my wet shirt. She kissed my jaw and neck several times before continuing to sob and all I could do was grin. A happiness so settling drifted over me. "I want to marry you, Cole. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, just like I always have."

Nothing could ever take me off this high because in that ocean, somewhere near Adele Island in New Zealand, Emily Eve Oken agreed to marry me as the sun went down.


	8. Uncovered

**A/N: **I'm really really really really really incredibly sorry for the insanely long wait. I've been busy busy busy and just haven't had the time. I hope there's some readers still left out there and I hope this chapter is okay. I know it's not that good but it's the best I could do with only a few hours sparingly to get this together. I'm not giving up on this story though. I will keep going as long as there is one person who still wants to read it (the updates just might be sparse). Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter and I hope you find this chapter acceptable :)

* * *

**"The eyes...from behind which they look at a world which no ruminant ever sees, perhaps dares to see, which I have seen before on the eyes of men who have killed so much that never again as long as they live will they ever be alone." -- William Faulkner, "The Unvanquished".**

It was inevitable that the story would come to the girl.

She walked down sidewalks through rich neighborhoods and thought about love. She wondered if any of these rich suburban wives found love with their businessman husbands. No one had a love like hers. It was such a sad thing. It was so depressing to know these people would never know love, for she had learned it was the most amazing thing in the world.

She walked through these neighborhoods for two hours, avoiding glancing at the phone in case that annoying man attempted to contact her. When the sun began to set, she knew it was time for her to be home. Her mother needed her. She retraced her steps and walked quickly through the now darkening neighborhoods. She knew better than to be here after dark. Even the most charming places can become dangerous and hostile without light.

By the time the apartment building was in the view, the moon was so bright she could have read a book under it. The darkness made her aware of every inch of her and she broke into a run, even though of all the young women in the world she would be one of the safest ones. She could defend herself better than most trained officers in the police force and also knew a lot about the unstable men who roamed the streets (seeing that she was made from one and had that blood inside her veins.) However, at the same time, her knowledge made her even more nervous. She knew what kind of things went on in the shadows of the world. That part was like another universe where there was no order and there were no rules; desire, instinct, and anger reigned supreme. Men made their decisions based on what _they _needed and wanted. The thought of what was best for someone else never crossed their mind. Blood was about as common in the gutters as water on a rainy day. Desperate screams of both victim and sinner pierce and punctuate the night as they both get caught up in the grizzly war and attempt to get what they want. California in the daytime was beautiful, wild, and even sometimes kind. California at night was just as beautiful and just as wild but without an ounce of kindness. The California night was her world.

The apartment was on fire. Not completely literally, but slightly. It felt as if she had walked into an oven and she could see flames right in front of her eyes. But the flames were contained moderately safely in the large fireplace. Her mother was where she always was: sitting in an armchair in front of the fire.

"Hello Mother!" She yelled. It was hard to hear anything over the loud crackling of the fire and her mother's mumbling.

Her mother made no indication that she heard her only child, or even that she knew she was home. She sat still as stone in the red armchair, staring into the flames while she held a knife in her hand. In front of her was a small tray table. On the table there was a large pile of white flakes. The pile grew as the mother shaved more and more off the bars of soap. It was the only thing she did anymore. She hardly ate, she hardly drank, she hardly peed. She sat in the armchair and stared at the fire while she obsessively shaved bars of soap until there was nothing left of them. She slept at random intervals. She didn't speak much at all. In fact, the only time she did was when she was speaking to what only could have been her inner demons.

The girl—who wasn't much of a girl anymore—cautiously sat on the arm of the armchair. She gently pushed back her mother's thinning hair and wrapped a loving arm around her shoulders. Her mother shuddered violently and looked around, finally realizing she wasn't alone. She peered intently into the flames as if the person was reaching out at her from them.

"Luke?" She whispered. Her voice broke and shook. "Lukas? Lucian?"

Her daughter shut her eyes briefly and for a moment she felt as if she were breaking apart. A few deep breaths stitched her back together and she stroked her mother's hair.

"No, Mom. It's Caitlyn."

Her mother turned her face toward her daughter for a brief moment and then looked back at the flames.

"Yes." She breathed.

Caitlyn kissed her mother's cheek and stood up from the armchair.

"Are you hungry, Mommy?" She asked.

Alyssa didn't turn her head or offer an answered to her daughter's inquiry. But under her breath she murmured things that Caitlyn strained to hear.

"Hungry? Yes? No? Maybe. Hungry for food? No…not in a long time. Tired. Tired. Luke."

Alyssa moved forward and stared more intently at the flames. Caitlyn sighed and walked into the dark kitchen. Her mother didn't like any lights or any sounds beyond those of the fire. Caitlyn grabbed whatever she could find and sat down at the dark table.

She sat alone in the dark, just like every night, and ate. She listened to her mother's broken, thoughtless sobs and mutterings, just like every night. She pushed her pain away, just like every other goddamn night. If there was anything her worthless father had ever taught her, it was that emotions only stopped you from getting your goal. And she needed to achieve her goal…she needed him. He understood her and what more do people want in this world than to just have someone who understands them completely? What more? A smile to greet you every morning? A pair of eyes to gaze into at night? A hand to hold when you feel like maybe you can't make it? Two arms to hold you when your heart is breaking you apart? He could be all that. He was all that for her.

Alyssa's sobbing increased from the normal volume. Caitlyn left the table and walked back into the hot room. Her mother was curled up in the chair with her hands clasped so tightly over her ears that her nails were cutting into her head. She rocked back and forth and stared and stared at those flames.

Caitlyn perched beside her mother and took her in her arms.

"Mama. Mom, how can I help? What is wrong?"

Alyssa shook her head slowly and a few choking sounds emitted from her before she finally uttered any words.

"It is…so loud. It hurts. The screaming hurts so badly." She struggled out. She pressed her hands even harder over her ears.

Caitlyn shut her eyes. Maybe if she can't see it, then it can't be real.

"What screaming?" She asked.

"THE SCREAMING ALL AROUND! Don't you hear it? Can't you hear that?!" Alyssa finally met Caitlyn's eyes and Caitlyn saw the wildest look she'd ever seen.

"Where is it coming from? Who is it?" Caitlyn demanded.

"The fire." Alyssa whispered. "It is coming from the fire. It always comes from the fire. And it hurts…"

Caitlyn slid off the chair and walked over to the fireplace.

"I'll get rid of the screaming, Mom. Hold on."

She started to walk into the dark kitchen to get some water when the scariest sound she'd ever heard greeted her. A hand grabbed her arm tightly and she spun around in shock. Her mother was standing in front of her, her eyes wide and her mouth open as she screamed in what sounded like a mixture of terror and pain.

"NO!" She gasped out between screams. Alyssa fell to the ground and Caitlyn sat beside her.

"Why not, Mom? Why?" She yelled.

Alyssa's screaming stopped abruptly. She got that dazed look on her face again and stared back at the fire. It was a very long time before she answered.

"Because," she whispered, "sometimes…I can hear him screaming."

Caitlyn convinced herself it was the smoke that was making her eyes burn.

"Of course." She whispered. She took her mother back in her arms. "Oh Mommy…I'm so sorry."

It was not her fault. But what the hell did that even matter?

* * *

**"I want to stand with you on a mountain; I want to bathe with you in the sea. I want to lay like this forever, until the sky falls down on me." -- Cascada, "Truly Madly Deeply [Slow Version]." **

COLE'S POV:

Emily and I stayed in the water until the sky was dark and we were both so cold we were shivering. I held the ladder and helped her climb up. Once we were both on the deck, I took her back in my arms and kissed her.

"Are you as cold as I am?" I asked. She nodded against my shoulder and pulled back. The wind was blowing furiously and made it even colder.

"We should probably get dry clothes on." She smiled. She turned and walked across the deck. She kneeled down and grabbed the ring box and stood back up.

"I'm assuming you spent insane amounts on this, so it wouldn't be good if it fell overboard." She explained. I walked over to her and took the box from her hands. I opened it and carefully pulled the ring out.

"Can I have your hand?" I asked. She offered me her left hand and I held it loosely as I slipped the engagement ring on her ring finger. It looked just as perfect there as I assumed it would.

Her smile almost seemed melancholy. She hugged me tightly.

"It's perfect. I love it." She muttered.

"It reminded me of you." I told her. She grabbed my hand and started leading me inside the boat.

"You're such an artist." She teased.

"You know you love it." I winked.

We entered the bedroom, turned the light on, and grabbed our pajamas. She started walking toward the bathroom, and then stopped. She had the look of someone who had just made a very important decision.

"I'm going to change in here." She decided.

Hell yeah, that's what I'm talking about. This night just gets better and bette—

"But…don't look." She flushed, her arms tugging nervously at the hem of her shirt.

Dammit. So close.

"I won't." I promised. The fact that she was going to change in here was a step closer to our goal and that made me a very happy person. I still felt like cutting that stupid dance instructor bitch, though. This was all her fault. I can only hope for my sake that she listens to my warning because she doesn't want me to have to repeat myself. And if I have to go beat sense into her, I can always bring Oliver and my dad. Between the three of us, I'm pretty sure she'll quit.

She turned her back to me and after a few internal conflicts, I turned around too. It's actually a little better when she doesn't change in here because it's really torturous when I know she's standing in her underwear behind me but I can't even turn around and look. Death. I struggled with my wet clothes and finally got them off me. I pulled on a dry pair of boxers and a t-shirt (it seemed to be colder and colder as the night went on.)

"Are you dressed?"

She answered by wrapping her arms around me from behind. I pulled an arm free and reached back and set it on top of her head. Her hair was soft and I could have run my fingers through it for years.

The boat suddenly got a lot more unstable. It rocked back and forth so hard we found it hard to stay standing. I suddenly remembered that we weren't tied to the dock. Emily and I pulled apart and sat down on the edge of the bed. The boat seemed to get even rockier and a clap of thunder made me curse loudly.

"Fuck. I forgot that we weren't tied to the dock." I quickly stood up. I had to get us back to the dock. It wasn't syupposed to storm tonight! I didn't even know if the boat could make a bad storm tied to the dock. But it definitely couldn't make one in the middle of the ocean. Actually, it could probably make it if an experienced person was steering it. But I definitely didn't know how to handle this.

Emily hurried after me and I stopped suddenly at the doorway. The rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see anything. It was completely black and it looked as if the sea was alive. Mist from the rain as it splattered on the deck lightly dusted me and the roar of the storm and rain and thunder was louder than I've ever heard.

"This is bad." I muttered. I started out into the storm and Emily grabbed my arm tightly.

"No! Don't go out there! You can't see anything in this storm so you won't be able to get us back to the dock! You'll just fall overboard!" She yelled over the roar of the rain and growling ocean.

"I'll be fine, Em. But I really don't think staying in the middle of an ocean with no one steering the boat while it's storming is such a good idea. I have to get us back somehow." I smiled reassuringly and started to walk forward. She kept a tight grip on my arm.

"No." She said.

"No?" I asked in surprised.

"No! The storm will probably pass soon. We'll be fine. Please don't go out there. Please." She begged. I gaped at her.

"Emily…we really need to get out of the storm somehow. I don't know much about boats but I'm pretty sure yachts aren't really equipped for this kind of weather!" I exclaimed. The noise seemed to be getting louder. Uhh…I'm pretty sure I saw this thing on water tornados and all I can say is if that happens, we're pretty much screwed.

"I don't care about the stupid boat!" She yelled. "I care about you and I don't want you falling overboard and dying! Please. If you love me you won't go!"

Dammit. What the hell. Is she legitimately suicidal now? I guess I must be too because there's no way I'm going up there.

I sighed and shut the doors that closed off the hallway from the outside part of the boat. It was really cold and dark inside and the motion of the boat was making me feel dizzy. Role model, please don't let us die this way. It will be all my fault.

With the doors shut it was a lot dryer and a lot quieter. The boat swayed ominously to the left and Emily almost fell. She steadied herself.

"I'm thinking we should go into the bedroom and just lay down until this is over." She grabbed my hand and we walked slowly to the bedroom, leaning against the walls every time the boat lurched. We both collapsed on the bed. I moved to the top and pulled the blankets out from under the pillows. We both moved under the warm blankets and I pulled her against me. The boat rocked side to side relentlessly. We laid in silence for a while. Every time I looked at her she seemed to be deep in thought and I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about. I was thinking about what was going to happen when the boat crashed into something and we died, but I didn't think that's what she was thinking about. I listened to our breathing and the rain and waves and wind and realized I was a little tired and hungry.

"You know something, Cole?" Emily whispered.

I looked at her and her eyes had the look of someone who just had an epiphany.

"What?" I asked. She stared into my eyes and that strange look never left.

"I am incredibly selfish." She muttered in what almost sounded like shock. "I never realized it until a few minutes ago."

I held her tighter. "You aren't selfish, Emily. You were probably right. Going outside the cabin during this storm is a very bad idea. To be honest, I didn't even want to do it to begin with. You aren't selfish." I repeated.

She shook her head slowly.

"No, that isn't what I meant."

For some reason her eyes looked greener than usual.

"What did you mean?" I asked patiently.

"You have been my boyfriend for four years. And I still haven't had sex with you. And all because I'm scared? That's so selfish. Why didn't you tell me how selfish I was being? I didn't even realize it until a few minutes ago. I'm so sorry, Cole." She whispered.

Selfish?

"You aren't selfish, Emily. There is nothing selfish or wrong about you not being ready for sex."

She shook her head.

"Do you want to have sex, Cole?"

Hell yeah…more than I want to do a lot of things. But I have patience. The same patience I've had for years…

"Yes, Emily. But not if you're uncomfortable the entire time." I answered truthfully.

She propped herself up on her elbow.

"But isn't the first time supposed to be uncomfortable?" She challenged.

"Not like that."

She was silent for about a minute.

"Let's do it, Cole." She finally said.

Why do you do this to me, Jesus? Why? Is it because I don't go to church? Why do you have her decide this when I know I have to refuse it? Why do I have to have a conscience? The problem is that I care too much. God, if Michael and Gavin knew what I was about to do they'd stab me.

I kind of felt like shit when I painfully muttered my next word.

"No."

There was a pause.

"No?" She asked.

"Yes. I can't do that, Emily. It would be wrong of me and you would regret it. You aren't even comfortable undressing in front of me. How could you be comfortable having sex? Plus, I don't have a condom or anything and you aren't on birth control." Each reason pretty much felt like I was getting punched in the stomach because I knew I was right.

"You aren't supposed to be comfortable the first time." She argued.

"I don't know where you got that idea, but I don't want our first time to be like that. Can't we have a first time that you like to remember, not one that makes you uncomfortable just thinking about it?"

"I guess so. I just want you to be happy." She glanced down and I could sense some relief in her.

"I am happy." I assured her. I kissed her. When I pulled back she still looked ashamed of herself. I didn't know how to make her feel better without making her feel worse. Why does life have to be so complicated?

"Why are you scared about being naked? It's really not that bad. I love being naked. It's very freeing." I joked, trying to get a smile out of her.

She smiled a little and that made me feel better.

"I don't like the way I look." She admitted.

"Well_ I_ like the way you look." I reminded her. "And I'm the one that will be seeing you, not you."

"That's the problem." She pressed her face against my chest. "I want to be so much more for you but I'm not. And you haven't ever seen me naked so you can't say you like the way I look."

"You don't have to be anything you aren't for me, Emily. I love you just the way you are. You should know that and you need to trust me when I say that. If we don't have trust, we don't have anything. I would _never _lie to you. And as for me never seeing you naked…let's fix that. If you want to get something over with tonight, let it be that. That way when the time comes for us to actually have sex, you won't be as scared." I kissed the top of her head.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Why am I so afraid?" She whispered, her voice muffled against me.

I stroked back her hair and gently pulled her back from me. She laid on her back and stared up at me and I stared back down at her. This had to help her and I had to show her that it's really not as bad as she thinks it is.

"I want to show you it's not as scary as you think. Is that okay?" I asked. She stared at me in that way that made me feel a little unsteady and x-rayed, and then she nodded. The storm seemed to rage even harder and I sat beside her. The blankets slid off us and rested at the foot of the bed. I touched the hem of her black tanktop and looked up at her again, making sure she wasn't hyperventilating. She had her eyes on me but they didn't look scared. In fact, they seemed to be filled with trust.

I pushed her tank top up her body and she sat up and pulled it off her. I'd seen her in a bikini before she got so self-conscious, but somehow I liked her in her bra better. It was a dark plum color with lace on the edges and it definitely fit perfectly. I knew her body had changed a lot since a few years ago, but it was even more obvious now. It wasn't too cold in the room anymore. I smoothed a hand up her flat stomach and leaned down and kissed her.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She nodded. Her cheeks were a little flushed from what could have only been embarrassment.

I opened my arms and she sat up and moved into them. I hugged her and rubbed my hand down her back. I lightly scratched her back until she relaxed completely against me. I moved my hands to the clasp of her bra and waited for her to protest or maybe for her shoulders to tense. But she stayed calm and still so I unhooked the clasp. She kept her arms around me and I could feel her heart beating fast.

"Do you want me to hook it back?" I asked. There was a pause and then she shook her head. She let go of me and moved slowly out of my arms, her bra sliding down her arms and rested at her waist. She always looked beautiful, but naked was honestly her best look. I laid back down on the bed and she slid down too. I pressed my lips between her breasts and kissed down her stomach. I could taste the salt of the sea. I stopped just above the waistline of her shorts as the muscles in her stomach tightened.

"You're beautiful. And I told you it isn't that scary." I smiled. She smiled back.

I rolled over beside her and she turned on her side, pushing her hands up my shirt. I helped her pull it off me and then she crawled into my arms so we were skin on skin and there was nothing between us. I could feel her heart against mine and there wasn't quite anything like it.

"Scary isn't the word I would use." She muttered. I rubbed the smooth skin on her back and felt very relaxed.

"What word would you use?" I asked.

She sighed as she thought. "I don't know. Do you have a thesaurus?" She joked. "It wasn't near as bad as I thought. At least one half is out of the way."

"You'll be fine, Emily. We'll be fine. I love you."

"I love you too, C-dizzle." She kissed my shoulder. There was a pause in which we listened to the storm (it had been the last thing on my mind before now.) I could still feel the heat emitting from her cheeks. "You know what name I hate?"

I laughed at the random topic. "What?"

She looked at me, her nose crinkled up in disgust. "Emily."

"Why? I like it."

"_Everyone _likes it. That's the problem. Everyone and their sister are named Emily. I wish I was named something a little more exotic. Or I wish I went by my middle name like you do. Eve is more uncommon." She explained.

"I like Emily. It suits you. It's sophisticated and gentle and artistic and beautiful."

"Your parents should have named you Cheesy." She teased, but I could feel the heat that had risen to her cheeks intensifying.

"I almost wish they would have. Caden Cole is like the name of a rich faggot. I honestly think they were on speed when they picked that name." I complained. When I thought of the name Caden Cole I always pictured some homosexual sitting in a white living room with a light pink sweater vest on with one of those sweaters tied around his neck.

"What would you rather have been named?" She asked. The storm was a lot calmer now. The boat was hardly rocking anymore and the rain was lighter as it tapped against the boat.

"I'm thinking Chauncey is a great name." I jested.

"Oh yes, it's _very _manly and sexy." She agreed. "I like your name. Although I'm very partial to C-dizzle. It reveals your inner gangster."

I laughed but inside I felt strange at that statement. It took me a moment to realize I felt bad because I still had urges to do bad things that kind of went along with my "inner gangster". I still wanted to do drugs a lot and I still wanted to drink and sometimes I still wanted to party but I never did it. I wondered if that's something I should have told her before. It's not really that important, it's not like I've ever acted on it. But then again maybe that's what she thought about when she wondered if she should have told me about the way she felt inside.

"Emily…you know, sometimes, I want to do drugs again." I professed.

She pulled back and looked at me unhappily. She leaned her face up and kissed me lightly.

"C-dizzle…drugs are _bad._" She reminded me. She leaned back against me and I was grateful for that. It felt cold and wrong without her against me.

"I know. But…people liked my art a lot better when I did drugs. My friends liked me more when I did drugs. What if…I don't know. What if I need them to succeed?" You never remember how awkward it is to hear your deepest fears out loud until you admit them to someone. It's even more unsettling than walking around naked. You feel more exposed because your inner thoughts and fears are what make you you and it goes past appearance and façade and goes straight to the heart of the matter: yours.

"You don't. You can't really believe that, Cole. Remember how bad you felt when you were doing drugs? You may think it was just because life pretty much sucked at that time, but the drugs had to have had something to do with it. You don't need drugs. You are more talented without them." She promised.

I opened my mouth to bring up the prime example as to why drugs might help, but she interrupted me.

"And I don't give a shit if the most famous artists snuffed whatever was in their reach. They aren't you. You are your own artist and you will make your name your own way in your own time. But it won't be because of drugs. I promise. I love _you _so much. I love the person you are naturally. I don't know or love the person you would be all hyped up on drugs."

I had no idea how she knew what I was going to argue. Her words made me feel a hell of a lot better though. I had to trust her if I expected her to trust me when I told her how beautiful she was.

"I guess you're right, Em. I just…feel like doing them sometimes."

"I understand. Cole?"

"Hmm?"

"Should I quit dance?" She asked.

I leaned my face against the top of her head and breathed in the smell of the ocean.

"Do you like to dance?" I asked.

"I love it." She answered. "I just don't like going and feeling like a failure."

"Don't give up if you love it. I've found that people will change and you will change but the way your art form makes you feel won't."

"Okay. Thanks, Chauncey." She yawned against my skin.

"Anytime."

I pulled the blankets over us. I felt content and ready for sleep and I could tell she felt the same. I felt like maybe a little progress had been made tonight, but I knew it'd take a while to fully fix what that dance instructor had done. And I had just encouraged her to continue going to the woman who made her life hell all the time. A sudden increase in volume from the rain filled the air. It occurred to me that the rain always followed us, no matter how far we ran.

* * *

**MILEY'S POV:**

I pressed redial for the hundredth time. I paced nervously while the phone rang annoyingly slow. After about thirty seconds, my son's stupid voicemail picked up.

Jake walked in the room holding Adeline's stuffed unicorn, Prince Corey.

"HE DIDN'T ANSWER AGAIN!" I yelled at him. He jumped in surprise.

"He's with Emily in New Zealand. I'm pretty sure they have better things to do than wait for their parents to call them." He reasoned. He walked over to the couch and sat down, staring at the unicorn in his lap.

I slammed the phone down angrily and walked over and sat beside him.

"But he tried to call at like five this morning when we were up with Adeline and Odette said he needed to talk to us about something and that he sounded scared but she says he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. What if he's sick? What if something terrible happened?" I leaned against him in exasperation. The child can't just call and then not answer any returning calls!

I noted Jake's lack of input and glanced at him. He was still staring at that stuffed unicorn.

"Jakey? Do you like the pretty unicorn? I'll buy you your very own if you want." I teased in a babyish voice. He shook his head and picked it up. He looked at me and he looked very upset.

"We have a problem." He announced gravely. My heart automatically picked up speed. I didn't want any more problems. I've had just about enough problems to last 6 lifetimes.

"What?" I breathed, fear coloring every syllable.

He looked back at the unicorn and wordlessly flipped it over to reveal and tear running down its tummy. The stuffing was bulging out.

"Someone tried to gut Prince Corey! Adeline is going to be heartbroken. I don't know what to do!" He exclaimed miserably. "I found it like this outside under the tree! When I found who tried to hurt my little girl's toy I'm going to gut _them!_"

I gently pulled the soft stuffed animal from his hands. I examined the rip. It could be easily sewed together.

"I can fix that. And if it was under the tree, Paint probably thought it was one of his toys and chewed it up. I don't think anyone was trying to assassinate Adeline's stuffed animal." I hugged him.

"They better hope not." He growled.

I took Prince Corey upstairs and went about stitching him up so he'd be good as new when the girls woke up. Adeline had another nightmare last night at five and the twins had fallen asleep in my bed.

Once Prince Corey was well, I carried him downstairs into the bedroom and placed him beside Adeline. They were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. It taken so long to climb to the top of the mountain and now that I'm here, I adore the view. I just really hoped my son wasn't about to fall into the same valley I was stuck in for years.

I gently kissed them and left the room. I almost screamed when, suddenly, Oliver appeared out of nowhere. His face was pale and his eyes wide.

"Where are they?! Emily isn't at her apartment and her roommate says she hasn't seen her in a while! Then I went by that place your son sells at they haven't seen him either! WHERE ARE THEY DAMMIT?!"

Oops. I was supposed to tell Oliver about the New Zealand trip.

"Uhh…well…Oliver, they went to New Zealand."

Here it comes.

"NEW ZEALAND? MY BABY WENT OUT OF THE _COUNTRY _AND DIDN'T EVEN CALL AND TELL ME!? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO? I THINK I'M GOING TO….DIE…I…CAN'T…--"

His face turned a very worrisome shade of purple. I grabbed his arm and guided him into the nearest room and forced him on the couch.

"Oliver, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure is going to rise and you're going to have a heart attack. They are fine. They are in New Zealand. I was supposed to tell you because they are too afraid to, but I forgot. Calm." I muttered soothingly. He nodded and breathed deeply.

"Yes. I guess you're right. It could have been worse."

"That's right. It could have. They'll only be there for a few more days and then they are coming home. How is Claire doing?"

"Good, good. The baby is good too. You know, she's been really mean to me lately. The doctor says it's the hormones but I don't know."

I laughed. "Trust me, Oliver. It's the hormones. They make you do crazy things."

He sniffed. "I miss when Emily was five. I miss my little girl."

"I know. But you have got to let go. Do you want to stay for breakfast?" I hugged him. He sniffed and nodded.

"Yes please. Will you make me some oatmeal? You know I love oatmeal when I'm upset."

"Yeah, Ollie. I'll make you some oatmeal. Come on."

We walked back to the kitchen. I wasn't the least bit surprised to see Jackson and Jake in there. I had gotten so used to random people walking into my house that if I saw Santa Clause in my living room one night I wouldn't even blink an eye.

"Let me guess…you came for breakfast?" I asked. I hugged my big brother.

"Yes. I'm feeling like a good bowl of oatmeal." Jackson replied shamelessly.

"Where's Lilly?" I asked. I looked around the kitchen more thoroughly to see if I had perhaps missed her. She wasn't in there.

"She's in the bathroom. What kind of oatmeal are you making?"

What is it with people and oatmeal today? I don't even like oatmeal.

"Whatever kind we have." I answered. I wandered out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I staggered forward as Lilly practically jumped on top of me.

"MILEY! Hi."

I hugged her back for a while and we smiled at each other.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Freaking aweeeesome! You? Where are my little girls? Where are Cole and Emily? I haven't seen those two in forever. Emily was supposed to call me back a few days ago but she kind of just disappeared. It's like she just left the country or something."

"The twins are still sleeping. And they did leave the country."

Lilly raised her eyebrows. "What?"

I grinned and started walking back to the kitchen. Lilly followed.

"Cole took her to New Zealand to propose to her."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEP! WHAT?! I SO CALLED THIS! YES! SCORE ONE FOR LILLY! HAHAHAHA! THAT IS SO GREAT! COLE IS TOTALLY JAKE'S SON, THAT'S DEFINITELY SOMETHING HE WOULD DO! AWW THAT IS SO SWEET! THIS IS SO EXCITING!!!" Lilly screamed. She jumped up and down in place and attempted to pull her phone from her pocket at the same time.

"I NEED DETAILS!" She finally fell still and pulled her phone free.

"If you're trying to call Emily, you're wasting your time. Neither of them will answer." I warned her. We entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Lilly wiggled her eyebrows. "I wonder why. I can't wait until the wedding, Miley!"

I smiled just as widely as her and grabbed her hands from over the table. "Me neither!! I can't wait until we get to plan their wedding. It's going to be great. I'm thinking the best wedding of the decade!"

She nodded in a very hyper fashion. "Definitely!! Oh! I meant to ask you…what's with that weird story in _Star _magazine? Did Cole really blackmail some lady?"

"What?! What are you talking about?" I screamed. She dropped my hands and reached into her bag and pulled out a glossy magazine. There, on the front page, was a picture of Cole and Emily in his car. What the…

"A Romance Out of Control: Has the Child of Two Famous Stars Gone Lost It?" Jake read out loud as he came up behind me. He snorted.

"Well, I wondered when they'd go after him. We did our best to protect him when he was younger but now it's up to him. What's the article say?" Jake pulled the magazine from Lilly's hand and sat in the chair beside me. Oliver and Jackson joined us at the table. Jake flipped through and found the page. It opened to a long article and a picture of Cole walking into the dance studio. The picture looked like it was taken by a security camera.

"'Cole Ryan is the son of Jake Ryan and Hannah Montana and a known party boy. Reliable sources spotted Ryan hacking into the Malibu Dance Academy where his girlfriend, Emily Oken (daughter of one of his mother's longest friends),—"

"Haha. _Longest_ friend. Even _Star _knows I'm the best." Oliver joked.

Lilly kept her eyes on the magazine and wordlessly smacked Oliver's arm, as if it were a reflex.

"Shut up." She muttered in a bored tone that suggested she had to repeat that to him three times a day.

"Whatever, Oken. I think we can all agree that I have the best and manliest body at this table." Jake replied calmly.

"Hush up, little boy. My body is king." Jackson argued.

"Shh! Keep reading, Jake." I said.

"'—attends. The wild-child then burst into a studio where Oken's dance instructor was and maliciously grabbed the woman by the arms. 'He shoved me against the wall,' the scared and traumatized dance instructor revealed to us, 'He told me that if I didn't stop correcting Emily in dance class that he was going to spread lies about me and get my business shut down.' The dance instructor continued by adding that Ryan threatened to kill her kitten, Mr. Bubbles. Has the elusive son to two mainstream stars finally lost it? Or is there more to the story? _Star _caught up with two of Ryan's friends and got their opinion. We interviewed Gavin Stephenson first, but he unfortunately offered nothing but explicit comments. The next interviewee was Michael Hodgens. He had this to say: 'Cole ain't crazy, man. I mean sometimes he makes good little church boy decisions that make me think he's lost his [explicit] mind, but he's not bat-[explicit] crazy, you know what I mean? We used to have some of the best [explicit] times ever. Maaan, we'd smoke and pop and drink whatever [explicit] [explicit] we would get our hands on, sometimes until we didn't even know who the [explicit] we were. Wait...[explicit] [explicit] [explicit] we can't get arrested for me saying that can we? Because we have those uh…[explicit] first and fifth amendments and all…actually, you know what, all that never happened. I was lying to look cool. Anyway, he really loves his girlfriend though and I bet he'd do any [explicit] to make sure she's okay.' It is obvious that the child, who was hidden from the public eye suspiciously by his parents, is acting out due to deep emotional issues. After the Ryans lost two children,'" Jake's voice wavered slightly and almost everyone at the table winced. But he continued, his voice gaining strength. "'it is believed that the first Ryan offspring was shunned to the side where he resorted to drugs, alcohol, and underage sex to fill the void inside of himself. Then, he reportedly fell in love with the girl he'd known his entire life. An anonymous psychiatrist _Star _spoke to had a startling view on all of this. 'It's obvious what happened, really. After years of being abandoned and not loved, Mr. Ryan found a girl who loved him and adored him. Because of the unstable way in which he was raised, he didn't know how to handle this kind of love, and he became extremely attached to her. I believe that if he thought anyone was threatening the girl or their relationship he would immediately go off the bat and even start harming innocent people. He is truly a threat to our society.' _Star _offers its condolences to Mr. Bubbles and the dance instructor, and implores citizens in the Malibu area to be on their guard.'"

Almost immediately, Lilly and Jackson burst into hysterical laughter.

"MR. BUBBLES…THREAT TO SOCIETY…" They rolled off their chairs and into the floor where they continued to have a fit.

I laughed a little but didn't find it quit as funny as they did because as ridiculous as the article was, some of it was true. He was pushed to the side and he did resort to all those harmful things.

"They just get more pathetic as the years pass." Jake slid the magazine to the middle of the table and then glared at it in disgust.

"I'm just glad that I was in there as the longest friend." Oliver grinned.

Once Lilly and Jackson calmed down, we all got breakfast ready. Adeline and Odette sleepily walked in just as it was finished.

I set the last bowl on the table and picked Odette up. She sleepily rested her head on my shoulder and I kissed her little head. Adeline was already curled up in Jake's arms, Prince Corey in her arms. I sat down beside Jake with Odette still in my arms and smiled at him.

Everyone piled food on their plates and after a few minutes the twins woke up enough to eat. They moved to their own seats and I put food on their plates.

Jackson finished before everyone else. He stood up from the table with his cup and started toward the fridge to get some more to drink. As he passed Jake's chair he purposely knocked into it, causing Jake to spill his drink all in his lap. Jackson burst into laughter and Jake was about to go off at him.

"You f--"

I grabbed his arm from under the table. He looked at me and I jerked my head at the girls, who were innocently observing the exchange.

Jake fell silent.

Jackson grinned.

"Oops. I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed in an insincere tone. Jake's anger melted away and was replaced with a confident grin.

"It's okay." He said. "Your sister made it up to me last night."

"Oooooooh. Good one, Jake," Lilly exclaimed, watching the scene with pleasure. She loved when Jake and Jackson got into—as she put it— "hissy fits."

Jackson glared. Jake smiled.

It was very silent.

"GET HIM DADDY!" Adeline suddenly screamed.

"YEAH! RIP HIS BRAINS OUT AND EAT 'EM FOR BREAKFAST!" Odette yelled.

That broke the tension. Everyone gradually burst into laughter.

"Guys…I miss my little girl." Oliver sniffed.

"WE KNOW." The entire table chorused.

I always think Oliver is a little dramatic, but I missed my son just as much. I could only hope that wherever he was, he was happy and safe.


	9. Questions

**A/n: **Sorry for the very long gap between updates. Life is overwhelming. I hope everyone had an AMAZING Christmas and a perfect start to this new decade! I started this year with a resolution to not only try my hardest to find the time to write more often, but to _make _the time. So the updates should be much more frequent. Thank you all so very much for the reviews last chapter and I really, really, really hope you find something good in this update.

* * *

**"Love's the only house big enough for all the pain in the world." -- Martina McBride, "Love's the Only House". **

It's hard to admit to failure.

Most humans can't ever admit it to themselves because even when other people lose hope in them, and accept that they will never succeed, they still have some sort of hope and belief in themselves. We always make excuses for ourselves. We always give ourselves the benefit of the doubt. Why? Because we know ourselves. We know who we are, what we want, what we are capable of. We know that deep down, we have the potential not to fail.

It's hard to say if I would ever be able to accept my failures, if I would be able to ever admit that I am a failure as an artist, a failure as a son, and most tragically, a failure at fixing Emily. It is not the worthless people that are the saddest cases. It is the ones who had the potential one day at a certain time in a certain place to be great, but never were. I could say my parents were great people because of their talent. I could say they were great people because of all they've been through. But the real reason they are great in my eyes is because they both were able to admit their failure. They could look it square in the eye and admit that they failed as parents while I was growing up, that they failed at keeping things together, that they failed at raising me. However, the beautiful growth that comes out of that wasteland is the realization that it's never as bad as it seems. More often than not, when great people look the failure in the eyes, they get so overwhelmed with guilt that they admit to things that aren't even true. They didn't fail at raising me. Through all the bad things, it brought along something good: lessons that I could carry with me in my life.

But as I looked at her hair as she slept, with the bright sunlight turning it all shades of brown and copper, I couldn't think of one lesson that could help me now. I felt overwhelmed then, as if maybe I couldn't do what I had promised. I knew deep down inside me that I was just as broken as she was (but not in the same way) and that I couldn't even begin to heal her unless I was healed myself.

But I would try. I would try with all I had and keep trying to the day I die. Love is the cruelest dictator, the hardest hitter. Ten-thousand hateful sentences from a stranger doesn't match up to three words from a person you love. Seeing hundreds upon hundreds of people sobbing in fear and pain doesn't begin to match up to the pain you see when that one person is scared and in pain. Love turns one person into everything and suddenly your life is about them. Every moment you're without them is a moment wasted. All you want to do is talk to them, to see them, to touch them. And if something threatened that…you'd do all you could to protect it because it is everything. It is more you than you are.

But how did you protect them when the thing hurting them was themselves?

She just needed to see what I saw. She needed to crawl into my skin for a moment and look through my eyes and see the soft, shiny waves of her dark hair. She needed to see how smooth and beautiful her skin looked with the sunlight warming it. She needed to see how beautiful all the skin on her was as the blanket revealed more and more of her. She needed to see through my eyes. I could paint the way I saw her over and over again but it would never be beautiful enough and it would never show her what it should. That's why I am a failure with my art. I am supposed to be able to take what I see and what I feel and put into something solid, but I can't do it right. Maybe I should have given up on it a long time ago. Maybe I should have realized I was never as good as people said I was. But there is just something about it. Something that reminds me of the way I feel when I look at pictures from when I was a small child. Something that reminds me of holding my mother's hand and walking through the park. It took me years, but I finally pinpointed the feeling: Trust. It was so hard for me to trust anyone or anything but I had always trusted art. It was always there. Just like Emily.

It was a little staggering to believe that it was possible to lose her to herself. It was a little staggering to think of all the miles we traveled and how nothing at all had changed.

She stirred and there was a short and heavy pause before she slowly opened her eyelids and I saw the Earth of her eyes. Her face flushed as she looked at me and the raspberry color was deeper than I ever remembered. It brought me back to when we were ten and she was terribly sick. Her dad brought her over to our house in panic because she was shaking so violently with tremors that she could hardly get sentences out. Her temperature was so high even my mom panicked, which tipped me off that Oliver wasn't just being melodramatic. When they arrived I was sitting in my room playing a video game, trying to see how late I could manage to stay up (because when you're ten and it's the summer that all you really have to do), and I heard the panicked voices downstairs. I hesitated about walking down there for fear of getting in trouble for being up so late, but then Emily tried to speak and she was crying and I was slipping off my bed and through the mess of my room and out the door and down the hallway. I peered out over the balcony and glanced in the living room and her face was so red and her eyebrows furrowed in pain and her lips pale and tears were sparkling on her skin when she flinched or turned and the moonlight hit her face just right. It was like each milky shine pushed me forward and made my foot move one step down and that continued until I was standing right in front of her. She looked at me but I didn't even know if she really saw me. We hadn't been close since the start of that summer and for a while we just looked at each other (or rather I stared at her and she stared in my general direction, I can't be certain if in her delirium she even realized I was there). My mom had a grip on my arm and she was explaining that Emily was fine but that her and Oliver were going to take her to the hospital just to make sure and that I was supposed to stay there with dad and I remember breaking the gaze and glancing at her and realizing for a moment that she was paler than she normally was and she had been pale for a very long time, since February to be exact, but she was even paler and I knew she thought she was going to lose another child and it occurred to me even heavier then that life was just one run on sentence after another and that eventually every one would end but I could only hope it wouldn't stop on Emily. You never expect newborn babies to die before they even experience the world for a month. You never expect otherwise healthy ten year old girls to die. But right then it hit me full force that Emily could die and I felt burdened with this fact. For a moment I looked back into her glassy eyes and I felt a shove in the pit of my stomach and my muscles tensed and my throat contracted as I tried to make the words to give to her. But the pride was there in my mouth and it stopped it and they went to the hospital. I sat in the living room for a while and thought and prayed. Thinking back on all of this now, I think about how terrible it would have been for her to have died that night, thinking I hated her for no reason at all.

"What are you thinking about?" She whispered. I looked away from the glassy eyes and back into the clear ones that were gazing at me in a concerned manner. I pushed her hair back from her face and pulled her back in my arms.

"I was thinking about nine years ago, when you had that terrible fever and you had to go to the hospital." I answered. I rested a hand on the small of her back.

"Do I look that terrible now? Is that what triggered the memory?" She joked. She leaned forward and kissed me and all my pessimistic thoughts drifted away. Of course she would get better. And I would and could help.

I set my hands on her blazing cheeks. "The color of your cheeks triggered the memory." I grinned. Her skin seemed to be roasting under my hands.

"I'm not used to waking up half-naked beside someone." She admitted quietly. I let my eyes drift over her bare shoulders and the sheet wrapped around her and I focused on the gentle and calm rocking of the boat. I leaned down and pressed my lips to her shoulder.

"It's not half-naked if you're covered up," I argued. She set her hand on my head and ran her fingers through my hair. We stayed silent for a long moment, and then she slowly slid off the bed, pulling the sheet with her.

"I feel very self-conscious right now." She admitted. At first these words felt like a punch that carefully beat my optimistic side to sleep and tied him up in a closet. But then I realized that we had crossed a milestone last night and that we had to take baby steps.

She came out of the bathroom fully dressed and laid back down beside me. My cell phone chose that moment to ring and I considered ignoring it; however, it could be something really important. I rolled away from Emily and leaned off the bed and groped the floor for my pants. I grabbed them and pulled my phone free from the pocket. I slid back on the bed and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Cole! Are you okay?" My mother sounded pretty frantic. Why would she think something was wrong?

"Yes…why wouldn't I be?" I asked. Emily's eyes appeared curious as she gazed at me. I smiled at her because it's all I could really do to express love right now.

"You called here at like five AM and I couldn't get a hold of you after that! What did you need?"

"Oh! Sorry about that. Time difference…I forgot. Anyway, I don't need anything now. I figured it out."

She sighed. "That's annoying. It's going to drive me crazy wondering what you needed. But I'm assuming you don't want to say it right now so I'll let you tell me when you come home. When _are _you coming home?" I heard faint voices in the background and I wondered what my family was up to in my absence.

"I'm not sure. Four days? Five? Something around there. I have to go, but give the twins a hug for me."

"Okay. Have fun—but not _too_ much fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom. Bye."

"Bye."

I ended the call and Emily raised an eyebrow.

"Long story." I smiled. She moved closer to me at the same moment I moved closer to her.

I closed my eyes and kissed her and saw the rest of our vacation before my eyes: the ocean, the sun on her hair and skin, that beautiful hotel room, her smile, and our future. I hoped I could make her happy. I hoped she was happy. And I ignored the one thought that pulled at my hair: Happiness is absorbed by time much quicker than sorrow. Sorrow sits on top of life like a thick, oily film, partially blocking out the sun. Sorrow makes more of an impact on life. Would I make an impact on her life? Or would I make her happy?

* * *

By the time the vacation was over we were both tan as islanders and tired. I was pretty sure my fingertips would never be wrinkle-free again.

"I never thought I'd say this," Emily whispered, "but I actually miss your hard mattress."

We were flying home and all around us were sleeping passengers.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I do too. I guess nothing really compares to your own bed."

Nothing compared to home, really. Not even the beauty of New Zealand. I missed my parents, I missed Paint, I missed painting, I missed my friends, and I especially missed my sisters. And I knew Emily missed her dad a lot.

"Do you want to stop by my parent's house and see everyone before we head back to the apartment? I'll tell my mom to get your dad to come over." I said it a little too loudly and the large and obviously wealthy man to my right snorted in his sleep.

She smiled and rested her head against my shoulder. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'd like that."

When I looked at our future, I should see her smiling in a beautiful wedding gown, or perhaps her hand in mine as we sit on a couch in a living room watching television, or maybe even a look while we tuck a small child into bed together. But there was this pessimistic side of me that only saw bad things. I saw my own mother, broken on the floor of the hospital room—because broken was the only word I could use to explain the way her legs gave out and she crashed down on herself, her face resting against the cold floor and her hair fanning out while her elbows protruded out from her at awkward, unnatural angles—sobbing so hard it could have been screaming if I didn't hear the distinct sound of her heart breaking. I saw my dad's face that morning so many years ago when I woke up in that apartment in New York City and he told me that she had left. I thought about the way she looked after she was raped; the way she flinched at almost everything, the way she tried to hide everything from me but never realized that all that time I could hear her screaming and crying in her sleep. I thought about all I had witnessed, and how it had ultimately made me scared shitless of the future, and I wondered if life was really ever worth living at all? Maybe that was the artist in me, the side that always capitalized on the bad things because art is truth, and the truth in life is love and lose and more often than not, the two are intertwined. Maybe it was the realist in me, the side that understood by all I had seen growing up that life hurt, love was pain, and healing was sometimes even worse than the injury itself. That sometimes the things you want the most are the things you can't have. I looked at my dad and I looked at me and we were so much alike that I had to fear for Emily. I didn't want to pull the Ryan legacy of pain down on her. My grandparents lost a child. My parents lost a child. What if Emily lost a child? What if it was my child? What if it destroyed her, and what if it was my fault?

I glanced at her and realized she was asleep. The light but also ironically heavy weight of her head had been on my shoulder for a while. I realized that when things like this hurt me inside, she was who I wanted to talk to. Instead of waking her up, I closed my eyes and heard the things I already knew she'd say.

'_Cole, do you realize how much I love you?' –_she'd start with that because she knew it healed me halfway immediately so that no matter how weak the coming argument was, I was already halfway better off than I was before – _'You are not your father, and there is no way losing children is a genetic trait passed down through the family. What happened to your aunt's sister was a tragedy. What happened to your sisters was a tragedy. Tragedies happen. They might happen to us. One will most likely happen to us before we die. But when it does it will _not _be your fault. It will just be something terrible that happens. Something like what happened to your- no, _our – _family. Life sucks but you can't_ really_ think it's not worth living? You're looking at all the bad things that happened to your parents; think of all the good things. Think of you. Think of the twins. Think of how they found each other. There are so many good things in life that we take for granted. We harp on the bad and let them overshadow the good so much that we almost forget they're there, but you better believe we'd notice in a heartbeat if they disappeared. You were right before, happiness is less potent than sorrow, but that doesn't mean it's any less important. Just because you feel the pain of loss longer than you feel the happiness of love doesn't mean the loss meant more: it means you loved what you lost so much and it made you so happy and you were so comfortable with it that you almost forgot its presence until one day you woke up and it wasn't there anymore. So really…happiness and sorrow are the exact same thing in a twisted kind of way. And just so you know, I'd rather have a lifetime of sorrow with you than a lifetime of happiness without you.' _

It was more comforting to know I knew her so well that I could automatically hear her response to an unspoken fear than to actually hear her say it. She inspired me and helped me realize things weren't that bad; that even when things felt like they might dig into my heart and rip it into a thousand different directions, I still had her to help me find them and piece them back together, even when she was asleep. And I could make one hell of a painting out of it, too.

* * *

**MILEY'S POV: **

I was in the process of giving the twins a bath when Adeline asked me something that made me accidentally squirt too much foamy soap in Odette's tiny hands.

"What happened to the other babies?" She asked. She'd been quiet most of the day but she did that sometimes. She slipped into her own head and it was hard to pull her out. I imagined she was thinking of dragons and princesses. I never imagined she was entertaining such mature ideas such as wondering what happened to the children her and her sister's middle names came from. Jake and I hadn't said anything to them about Isabella or Joy yet, fearing and knowing that it was much too early. We'd put a tentative time sticker on the subject that read AGE 10. But it looked as though my two babies had been brought up sooner than I wanted, and I was going to have to explain it alone.

I glanced at Odette as she rubbed the mountain of foam between her hands and I looked back at Adeline. Her dark hair stuck to her face and she was wearing a curious expression. I was reminded just how intelligent she really was. I wondered if knowing this would affect her negatively. But I didn't want to lie; I didn't want to pretend I had no idea what they were talking about because I did. To lie and pretend that would be like saying those two children never made an effect on my life. To look into my twins' eyes and say I had no idea what babies Adeline was talking about would be like saying I forgot all about them; I didn't lie awake all night on their birthdays and push tears away, I didn't sometimes write the twins' full names on documents and feel that painful heat rise to the hidden chambers behind my eyes and nose, I didn't come across baby socks and know they weren't ones we bought for the twins, but ones meant to be slid gently on the tiny feet of someone else, someone that never quite made it that far. To lie would to be to say I didn't love them anymore and that I could easily forget them. What a severe and vile lie that would be.

"Where did you hear about the other babies?" I asked softly, attempting to buy myself time. I always needed time and it seemed that there was never enough of it to go around.

"Daddy and Grandma were talking about it. Where did they go? Were they our sisters?" The green of her eyes was so clear as she stared directly into my eyes. I picked the foamy soap bottle up off the side of the tub and squirted an extreme amount in her hands too. Odette was confidently rubbing the soap on her body and appeared occupied, but I knew she was hanging onto every word. Adeline mirrored her sister and covered her body in the purple foam.

"Long before you girls were born, your daddy and I had two other babies." I explained carefully. They didn't understand death much beyond the fact that when someone died in a movie, that character never returned on the screen again and all the other characters cried (unless it was a bad guy, of course.) When Abby's guinea pig Magenta died they understood that she was gone. But as far as they were concerned, death was very temporary. Sure, someone was gone off the screen, but who's to say that character didn't come back on screen after the credits rolled? I couldn't end their dreams that movies were reality with pieces of the story caught on tape. I couldn't end the wish that things that die come back eventually, even if it's not where they can see it.

"Where are they?" Odette asked suddenly. I glanced at her and she had the purple soap all in her trademark Ryan blonde hair. I grabbed the plastic cup off the side of the bathtub and lowered it into the tub, feeling the resistance until the cup and all its air submerged under the water. I pulled it back up out of the water slowly and Odette automatically tipped her head back. I set my hand gently on her forehead so none of the water got on her face and poured out the water on her hair so the soap was washed out. She slid back up and the noise of the water splashing and the strange, squeaky sound skin made when it was moved on the ceramic of the bathtub was mesmerizing.

"Mommy?" Adeline asked. I leaned back and glanced at her.

"They are dead." I admitted. The words still hurt but for the life of me I couldn't think of a better way to say it.

Both of them looked at me and I smiled as wide as I could so maybe they would think it didn't hurt me, which meant it shouldn't hurt them either.

"Why?" Adeline demanded.

Why?

I honestly had no answer to that. I stared at them and for a moment I didn't see them and I didn't see anything. I felt my mind slipping away to a memory and that scared me more than anything. It reminded me of times I didn't want to go back to. I fought away the memory—a painful one that I never wanted to remember ever again—and forced an answer out so that my little girls wouldn't be plagued like me: they wouldn't have to lie awake at night and picture the tiny hands and wonder why. They would have a solid reason, something that justifies everything that happened.

"Because they belonged with God. He let me hold them for him for nine months while he got a room ready for them in Heaven."

Adeline smiled widely because this was just the answer she wanted. Odette seemed a little more suspicious but didn't say anything about any of it. She was indifferent.

"Are they in a castle?" Adeline asked, her eyes shining bright as she pictured satin ball gowns and diamond stairs and gold dressers. I liked to think that too.

"Yes. They each have their very own room and it's filled with everything they could ever want and they are really, really happy." I smiled softly at her and thanked her by dropping a kiss on her cheek. Children helped grownups believe in beautiful things when sometimes the world looked so hideous it was hard to not be sick. And even though I knew that was most likely wishful thinking, it was hard to believe it wasn't true when Adeline believed it so strongly that I could tell by looking at her that she would have died for it. It's almost impossible not to be swayed by that kind of faith.

"I bet it's nice in Heaven." She mused. She grabbed the plastic pony her and Odette used when they played in the bathtub and ran her tiny fingers through its mane.

I ignored the stinging that seemed to caress every vein in my body and grabbed their towels off the counter. They stood up carefully and I wrapped them each in one, and then enveloped them in my arms so that I could smell the soap and their hair could soak through my shirt and leave a circular shadow of moisture where their heads had rested.

"I bet it is nice, but I am so glad you two are here with me." I whispered. Odette kissed my cheek.

"I am too, Mommy." Adeline said.

"You guys are having a group hug without me? That hurts."

I released the twins and they ran towards Jake, laughing as he lifted them up into his arms. I hadn't heard him enter the house, much less the bathroom. I stood up and walked over and we exchanged a generic welcome-home kiss that was as much a part of my routine as brushing my teeth in the morning. He took one look at me and his forehead creased with worry lines.

"Why don't you two go down the hall into the play room and make your brother and Emily some welcome home cards?" He suggested. Cole was coming by as soon as the plane landed. That made me feel a little better. Having him home would make things seem right again.

Odette and Adeline seemed excited at this idea and took off toward the play room—still clad in towels with soaking wet hair—and Jake hugged me tightly.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Adeline heard you and Alana talking about them."

I didn't have to explain who _them _was. I knew he could tell by the slight ache and longing that cushioned the simple pronoun. His posture shifted a little and I knew he probably didn't even realize it. He shifted it as if to protect it from a blow.

"I'm sorry, Miley. What did you say?" His arms tightened around me and for a moment we were in a bubble that no one else would understand. To outsiders of this bubble, the subject was tired and we should "move on" or "get over it" but to those who were inside their own bubble, to those who have experienced this, to Jake or to me…there was no "getting over it". There was only the resolution to face it bravely. This was in simple things, like saying the name out loud. Or finding the strength to display pictures. Or explaining to two children what happened. To others it was a loss and it was a broken heart, but broken hearts heal. What they didn't realize was that when your heart breaks, pieces fall out and get lost and are never found again, so when it _does _heal, there are chunks missing, and you always feel that emptiness, the space that should have been filled by them. It is _always _there. It doesn't go away. But slowly the spaces become less foreign and become part of who you are.

"I told them that they were in Heaven where they were meant to be. Adeline especially liked this. She decided that they live in a castle." I explained. He smiled gently.

"That is as perfect of an explanation you will ever find. Are you okay?" He said the last statement like his life depended on my answer, like if I wasn't okay he wasn't either (which he wouldn't be.) There's no way to explain how it feels to have someone love you that much.

"I am fine. And this time, it's the truth. I love you."

"You know I love you too." He responded. And I did.

He pulled away from me and cupped the back of my head. He stared intently at me.

"No more bad days?" He asked.

I smiled and let myself lean into his hand, confident that he'd always support me. "I haven't had a bad day in a very long time, and it's going to take a disaster to make that change."

"Now _that's _what I like to hear! Let's go make sure Odette isn't cussing Cole out on her welcome home banners."


	10. Desires

**A/n: **I apologize for the long, long wait. If any readers remain I will honestly be shocked. But thank you so much if you're reading this and extra thanks if you review :) it really does mean a lot. I've already started the next chapter so with luck that should be up a LOT sooner than this one was. Junior year is a bitch. **Happy belated birthday to speedsONEandONLY!** I'm one day late :( sorry! **

* * *

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**"This goddess flies with a huge looking-glass in her hands, to dazzle the crowd, and make them see, according as she turns it, their ruin in their interest, and their interest in their ruin.." -- Jonathan Swift, "The Art of Political Lying"**

* * *

**"No love from my daddy 'cause the coward wasn't there. He passed away and I didn't cry, 'cause my anger wouldn't let me feel for a stranger. They say I'm wrong and I'm heartless, but all along I was lookin' for a father who was gone" -- Tupac, "Dear Mama". **

* * *

_The ocean was deserted except for me and her and three dogs. The waves rocked restlessly and the entire beach had deep puddles scattered all along the sand, making the shore resemble the Moon, and in each puddle was a piece of the sky. She sat in one of the puddles with her knees pulled to her chest. The sand was so golden around her and the water she was sitting in was sapphire with cotton puffs. The three dogs swam in the angry sea and I watched her. _

_I approached her. She turned to face me and her eyes were full of moisture. My eyes scanned all the familiar things (her nose, eyebrows, lips, and hands), looking for the pain. Her eyes stayed on my face, as if she were looking something I couldn't provide. The tears steadily fell and I was at a loss. _

_I finally pinpointed what was wrong when she drew more into herself. I had seen that behavior innumerable times while growing up. _

_I slowly sank down in the warm sand beside the crater she was sitting in. I sifted through the sand with my fingers and turned my head back in her direction. She was looking back at the waves. _

"_You don't have to be afraid." I whispered. _

_Her eyes stayed glued on the sea while she cried. I looked away and looked back and noticed this time she was wearing a white dress, and floating in the piece of watery sky beneath her were oil pastels and paintbrushes. I impulsively reached for the paintbrush, but when my fingers gripped around it, it turned into a white pill, and then Emily's hand grasped around my wrist and all things solid disappeared except for our surroundings and each other. _

"_I know I don't have to. But I still am. And you are too." _

_I was? _

_I was. _

_I realized my hands were shaking and suddenly the beach became extremely warm. _

"_I am." I agreed. _

_We both turned to watch the ocean. There were years of silence. _

"_Why are we scared?" I whispered. I turned back to her. She seemed even smaller than before and the puddle she was sitting in was growing grayer and grayer as the storm rolled in. Her tears were glass and as they landed in the sand they made gentle _chink _sounds. _

"_Because we're having sex." She answered. _

_A small pile of round balls of glass was forming_.

"_No we aren't." I argued. She stood up slowly and her white dress seemed to be plastered to her body. Her skin was tan and I could clearly see the curve of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach and the sexy swell of her hips. She shrugged her shoulders and her wet dress slid neatly down the length of her body and liquefied at her feet. I scanned her naked body and she slowly moved toward me, her smile suggestive but her eyes haunted. She touched her hands to my chest and shoved me down on the sand. She spilled onto me. She joined hands with me and kissed me while she moved against me and suddenly the glass tears increased. Each tear was a heavy glass orb that landed on my chest as it fell from her eyes. Thirty seconds passed and I couldn't breathe. I was being pressed to death under the weight of her tears. _

"_Emily—" I struggled. _

_She rolled off of me. _

_I tried to lift the glass off me. _

_She watched me. _

"_Help me." I croaked. _

_She walked over and pulled at the globes. They wouldn't move. As I watched her, her body became smaller and smaller until she was so tiny and weak she couldn't even make the orbs budge. Only then did she smile. _

_The pressure was making it impossible to inhale. _

_Caitlyn appeared beside Emily. She took Emily's hand and lifted her up like she weighed nothing. She gently carried her in her arms across the beach and set her in one of those sky puddles. She walked back over to me and simply set a finger on the winterless snow globes. They disappeared. _

"_It's so easy." She whispered, a smile gracing her dark lips. _

_I examined her with my eyes and then glanced across the beach at Emily. I could barely see her as she became tinier and tinier. And the tinier she grew, the happier she seemed. _

"_No." I said. "No, it isn't." _

_She sat beside me. _

"_It could be." She whispered. I met her gaze and she kissed me. I kept one eye opened and Emily stared to fall apart. _

_I broke the kiss with Caitlyn. _

"_I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am. I don't know what I'm doing, what I'm supposed to be doing, or where I belong." I admitted. _

_She cocked her head to the side and her hair gleamed in the sun. _

"_Yes you do." She whispered. She moved onto me. "You know what you want." Her eyelids were heavy as she kissed me again. Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bright capsules. _

"_You know what you want." She whispered again. She offered them to me. I wanted them more than anything. I let her place an orange pill on my tongue, and immediately Emily was back in my arms and my paintbrushes were in my hands. _

_It was as if nothing had ever happened. _

"_Are you okay?" I asked Emily. She was her normal self. She grinned brightly. _

"_Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

* * *

_

I awoke when the car stopped. The sun was high in the sky and a ray shined brightly in my eyes as it reflected off my dad's shiny new car. (His special form of a midlife crisis was getting back in touch with acting; his twenty-second movie was currently in the filming process.)

I worked my tired eyes open and pushed the door open. I stumbled out and the sun was so bright I had to close my eyes fully. The sun was so warm and I could feel the breeze from the ocean from here.

I felt Emily's hand grab mine. "Sleep well?" She asked.

I nodded even though it wasn't that pleasant. A dream was just a dream, right?

"Did your parents invite all of Malibu?" She asked. I reluctantly opened my eyes and followed Emily's line of vision. The driveway was full of cars and some lined the street. Most I recognized—Lilly's, my grandfather's, my grandma's, Oliver's, Lana's—but there were two I wasn't sure of.

My head started to hurt from squinting my eyes so much. I really wanted to sleep but I knew my mom would want to talk to me. But perhaps, since there are so many people, I could sneak off to my room and curl up and sleep.

Emily locked the car doors and we began the walk from the street to the front door. I felt groggy and found simply walking annoying.

We hesitated outside the front door.

"They're going to scream." I warned her. She was wearing a white tanktop that contrasted beautifully with her dark hair, eyes, and tan skin. She smiled and held out her left hand. Her ring shimmered brighter than the sun on my dad's Midlife-Crisis-Mobile.

"They are. There's no way they'll miss this ring with the way it's shining." She gazed at it affectionately and then smiled at me. She really came alive when back in Malibu. There's always one certain location that a person feels most at ease in, and I'm pretty sure for both of us it was right here.

"Ha, the first thing my mom will do is yank your hand up to eyelevel to inspect it. Well, she might hug us first, but that'll definitely be the second thing."

We were saved from having to open the door to our own torture. The door was sucked into the cool confines of the home, and my dad was standing there with Odette. He shook his head, his forehead wrinkled with concern and his mouth set in a straight line.

"Leave!" He whispered to me, glancing nervously at Emily.

"What the fuck?" I asked. Oh wait. Parent. Shit! Oh well.

His eyes narrowed a tiny amount and he hesitated, as if on the fence about scolding me for that or not, but he decided to let it go.

"Come back tomorrow. Take Emily home. There are two fantastic reasons why this is the worst place for you two to be right now, and I'd rather you not know them. Just take your talented father's word for it, okay?" He rushed the words out.

Odette walked up and wordlessly held out her arms. My heart warmed slightly and I picked her up and hugged her tightly.

"I love you, dumb head." She exclaimed. She pulled back and smiled at me. Her blonde hair was in pigtails with little pink bows. "Things are weird in here! There's two weird ladies."

I looked back at my dad.

"Just go." He pushed.

"Jake." Emily said. He looked at her, a concerned hint in his eyes.

"I don't care if my mom is here. I'll be okay. I want to see everyone. You don't have to protect me. Geez, you Ryan men…" She trailed off and started to walk in the door. Odette struggled frantically in my arms and I set her down. She ran in front of Emily and blocked off the doorway, her tiny arms thrown out.

"No!" She exclaimed dramatically. Jake patted the top of Odette's head.

"That's my girl." He grinned down at her.

"It's not just your mother, Emily. That…_thing _is here." My dad grimaced. _Thing_? Lila is a freak but she's not a thing…she's a woman. And I would know that for a fact. Besides, Emily was Lila's stepsister. She was used to being around her.

"Dad, I'm tired. I want to get this over with and go home and sleep. You know mom is going to freak out if we leave. Let's save the theatrics for the big screen, okay?" I patted his shoulder and picked Odette up and walked into the house. Emily followed me. It was so cold in the house I jumped slightly. I swear, rich people have way too much money if they can afford to keep it like 50 degrees all summer.

Oliver was awkwardly sitting alone in the lounge, a strange look on his face and a beer in his hand. The guy looked rough. He hadn't shaven in a few days and his clothes looked kind of baggy. I felt a little bad for him.

"Daddy?" Emily asked. Oliver jumped and looked up. When he saw Emily, his entire face lit up with a smile.

"Em!" He set the bottle down and jumped up, crossing the room to hug Emily.

"You're so tan! Did you have fun?" He asked, once they pulled out of the hug.

"It was beautiful." She grinned. Oliver's smile stayed in place, even when he shook my hand. Hell to the fucking yes. He probably actually preferred me over drug dealers now.

"Well, let me see it." His voice took on a joking apprehensive tone. Emily laughed.

"Try not to faint," she joked. She extended her left hand and Oliver peered closely at the ring. After a few seconds, he stood back up.

"A beautiful ring for my beautiful daughter." Emily hugged him again. He looked at me over her shoulder and nodded at me in approval. I was a little thrown back by his warm aura today, but I was totally glad I wasn't getting the third degree.

Sunshine entered the room in the form of my other sister. When Adeline spotted me, her eyes widened.

"C!!" She screamed. She ran and I kneeled down. She hugged me tightly. She pulled back and set her tiny hands on my face.

"C," She whispered seriously, her green eyes boring into mine, "the grown-ups were fighting!"

"They were?! That's not good. Luckily, me and you know better than to fight with other people, right?" I responded. She smiled and nodded. I stood up and she took my hand and started pulling me behind her toward the kitchen.

"WAIT! I WOULDN'T—"

My dad's warning faded behind me as we entered the kitchen. My stomach bottomed out and I suddenly felt nauseous.

Sitting at a table, were three of my least favorite people. And across from the table, my mom was leaning against the counter, staring defiantly at the dark headed girl who was also staring at her.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed for the second time. Adeline slapped my leg.

"Not good!" She scolded.

All four women looked up at my outburst. My mom pushed herself up off the counter and hurried over to me. She hugged me tightly and the smell of the detergent on her clothes was so familiar it made the stupid people behind me disappear for a moment.

"Hi, honey, did you have fun?" She asked, a smile breaking apart the concrete tension that had caked on her face. I smiled back weakly, too distracted to focus fully on her question.

"Yeah, it was really great. Um…what are…—" I gestured at the table.

Caitlyn stood up and walked over to me. Her legs seemed to go on forever due to the stilettos she was wearing.

"I was driving through and I saw all the cars. I came to congratulate you and Emily! Engagement. That's wonderful." A smile slowly overtook her beautiful face. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her body against me. It wasn't a hug you give acquaintances or old friends. Those hugs are the one-armed awkward deals. This was a hug you would give to a lover, where your torso is pressed against theirs and your legs are pressed against theirs. I stiffened awkwardly, unsure what to do. My instinct told me to shove the bitch off me, but I didn't want to be rude. It was just really uncomfortable.

My mom noticed this too.

From the corner of my eye, I watched her purposely shove a pot off the counter. It landed on the ceramic floor and Caitlyn jumped, breaking apart from me.

"Oops. I guess I'm just really clumsy." My mom said, with a very monotone voice that was unlike her.

I focused my attention on the bigger threat. Emily's mom was seated at the table beside Lila. Lila smiled at me when she met my eyes. I smiled back, but not long enough for any memories to resurface. Lydia's eyes were bloodshot and she stared at the contents of a teal mug that was in front of her.

I turned back to my mother, who had returned to having a staring battle with Caitlyn. They both seemed unsure of how to treat each other. Obviously, they felt a strong urge to hate each other on principle. Caitlyn's father ruined my mother's life; my mother killed Caitlyn's father. But they both seemed unable to decide whether to give in to this urge or pretend to like each other.

"What is she doing here?" I asked, jerking my head at Lydia. I didn't even bother to lower my voice. I was still pissed off at this drug addicted, bulimic mess.

My mom glared at me, a real, honest-to-God, I'm-disappointed-in-you glare.

"I invited her. Emily is her daughter." She replied.

"No, Emily isn't. You knew Emily didn't want to see her. You know she doesn't ever want to!" I argued. If this was supposed to be a get together to greet me and Emily and celebrate our engagement, why would my mother invite someone Emily doesn't like? And why did she even let the whore Caitlyn into the house?

My mother looked pointedly at me. "Every mother makes mistakes, you should know that. Just because she made a mistake doesn't mean she shouldn't get another chance to be a part of her child's life. She's willing to change. And what kind of people would we be if we didn't support that?" She snapped. I glanced back over at Lydia. Adeline, ever the peacemaker, had approached her and asked her if she wanted to color. The two were now seated beside each other, coloring on white paper. I noticed the way Lydia's hands slightly shook and the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was withdrawing from whatever drugs she had been on.

Maybe my mom did have a point. But that didn't change the fact that Lydia made Emily uncomfortable.

"I understand, Mom. But this is supposed to be for me and Emily, and Emily doesn't feel comfortable around her. She says…" I trailed off, unsure if Emily wanted that repeated. My mom's eyebrows furrowed.

"What? What does she say?" She asked.

I avoided my mom's eyes. "She says it's like looking in a mirror."

Emily entered the kitchen at that moment, followed by my father and hers, and the rest of the family.

She stopped in her tracks when she spotted Caitlyn. She glanced at me, her eyes widened. And then she turned slightly and saw Lydia. Well damn. Her day is officially ruined.

Part of me was very interested to see how the new Emily would handle this. Old Emily would have probably told some people off or strutted in like she was invincible.

But this Emily just looked dejected. She attempted to ignore them, but her shoulders had hunched forward just a little, and she crossed her arms in front of her.

"Emily!" My mom greeted her. Emily shuffled over to where me and my mom were standing and ignored Caitlyn as best as she could. Emily and my mom hugged and I couldn't help it; I glanced at Lydia. She saw it and I knew it hurt her to realize that Emily didn't need her near as much as she needed Emily.

As I predicted, my mother grasped Emily's hand and looked at the ring.

"Awwwww!" She breathed. "It's so beautiful! I guess his artistic eye came in handy, huh?" She smiled at me.

"Yes. He is amazing. And _mine._" Emily pointed the last at Caitlyn. Caitlyn smirked.

"Still holding on to that tanktop, huh?" She muttered under her breath.

Emily glared at the floor. "Honey," She whispered sarcastically, "I'm wearing the damn thing." She turned toward Caitlyn and flashed her ring at her.

Caitlyn laughed. "Relax, Em. I'm not here to steal your man. I'm here to congratulate you. I'm really sorry our friendship faded away." She frowned and pulled Emily into her arms. Emily stood there for a moment before awkwardly hugging her ex-best-friend back. Caitlyn turned to me.

"Michael was here but your dad made him leave. He's so sweet. We should all double-date!"

Over my dead body. And I don't even want to know what that douche tool bag did to make my dad kick him out. He's so stupid.

"Cole!"

My grandmother's disapproving tone made me grimace. I turned around and she walked away from the conversation she was having with her husband. She set hands on my shoulders and examined my face.

"You didn't wear sunscreen, did you?"

Oh my God.

"Nice to see you too." I mumbled.

"It's very nice to see you. You look handsomer and handsomer each day. But I would like to continue to see you so you better get into the habit of wearing sunscreen when you go out in the sun. I don't know what your father told you growing up, but I taught him that sunscreen is the key to living long enough to look good as an older individual, and he's thanking me for that piece of advice now that he's getting all these leading roles in movies!" She smoothed her pants suit. My grandmother was the only stylish old lady I knew. She wore update fashion and heels every day.

"Sunscreen has _nothing _to do with my box office appeal!" My dad joined the conversation. "I'm just naturally gorgeous."

My grandmother stared at him with a sour expression.

"I'm still not sure where I went wrong with you." She finally said. My dad got a very offended look on his face.

"I beg your pardon, Mother?! You must not know how lucky you are to have me as a son!"

I decided to let them deal with that one alone. Emily, Lilly, my mom, and Claire were in a deep conversation in the corner of the kitchen and it looked like a girl thing, so I wandered around looking for a conversation to join.

I stumbled upon Lana, and she hugged me tightly.

"Well just look at you! Little runt! I always knew you'd turn out okay, even though for a while things were looking a little rough! Always knew you'd end up proposing to Emily too." She grinned. Jackson clapped my shoulder.

"Congrats!" He said.

"Thanks guys." I grinned. They started talking about taxes, and I grew extremely bored. I moved on to where my grandfathers were talking about something.

"—yeah, I was surprised too. I always thought she would do it for the rest of her life but—Cole! The man of the hour!" My mom's dad grinned at me. My dad's dad smiled too. Both their hair was graying more and more each day.

"Hi. What are you guys talking about?" I asked curiously.

"Boring, work stuff."

My family is extremely dull.

"Oh. Well, I won't interrupt. Have fun…"

I considered going to play dolls with Abby, Odette, and Adeline, but something much more interesting caught my attention. Oliver was sitting next to Lydia.

I edged closer so I could eavesdrop. Caitlyn walked up beside me.

"They aren't saying anything. I've been observing for a few minutes." She muttered. She inched closer to me.

I stepped away.

"I'm not playing games with you." I muttered.

"I'm not interested in games." She replied innocently.

"Then what are you doing here?" I asked. I turned to face her. She was so fucking gorgeous. It was extremely distracting.

"I miss you. I miss when we were friends and we talked on the phone all the time. And I miss Emily. So much. She was my best friend. I just want things to go back to the way they were." She replied.

I missed it a little too. Not enough to change things, though.

"I think it's a little too late for that, Caitlyn." I replied.

"Why? Because of what happened with my dad? He's dead. He's in the ground. I don't care. Whatever. People die all the time." She said it so casually. I knew she wasn't close to him, but he was still her father. Something was wrong with her.

"Too much has happened between our families. It would just be weird. I'm sorry." I replied.

"Romeo and Juliet's families hated each other." She argued.

"We are not Romeo and Juliet." I snapped. The farthest from it. Maybe Hitler and Napoleon.

Her cold eyes stayed on mine.

"Do you remember the painting I bought?" She asked. I nodded wearily. She moved closer to me.

"You are terrified of failure. You're terrified of losing your art because it's the only thing you feel makes you special. You are terrified of being ordinary. You want to do ecstasy again because when you were on it you felt you made better pictures. You felt you could relax better and really feel the art. Emily has changed and you don't really know her anymore and you know deep down because of this you won't be happy married to her. You long for so many things but you deprive yourself of them because society says you can't have them. But fuck society. It doesn't exist in the important realm of things and you know this, and you hide from it. You want to be like your father and sacrifice yourself to make someone else happy. But you aren't your father. You never will be. You want to run away from everything that matters because you know eventually everyone goes away."

She refused to break eye contact. I stared at her, feeling extremely freaked out suddenly. She knew things about me that I didn't even know until this moment.

"Why did you say all that?" I finally asked.

She shrugged. "I just told you everything I saw in the painting." She replied.

Lilly interrupted us.

"Dinner is ready." She smiled at me, but offered Caitlyn a weird look. Caitlyn followed the crowd but Lilly motioned for me to wait. Once the room was empty, she turned to me.

"What was that about?" She asked.

I shrugged. "She was just talking about work and stuff."

"It looked a lot more intense than that. This whole situation is strange. Why didn't your mom just kick her out?" Lilly pondered out loud.

"I think she's trying to prove to herself that she's over what happened." I responded.

"Well, she's not. She never will be. I don't think any of us will be."

I didn't know what to say to that. Lilly seemed to realize that. She hugged me.

"Congratulations, Cole. I'm really glad things between you and Emily have worked out. She looks happy. So do you."

She left the kitchen and I followed slowly after her.

I ended up having to sit beside Lila. But it was beside Emily, so it would be okay. I didn't have a problem with Lila, I just didn't like to think about all we'd been through and she was a physical reminder. I didn't mind remembering the sex because it was pretty great but I didn't want to remember what happened after that.

The table was quiet and awkward. Lydia and Caitlyn were wedging between all of us.

"This is awkward," Caitlyn suddenly said. We all looked at her but no one had the guts to voice what we were thinking: _yeah, because of you. _

She set her fork down and examined the table.

"You two have slept together." She pointed at Lydia and Oliver. "And so have you two." She gestured at me and Lila. Then she pointed at the couples at the table. "So basically, everyone in this room besides the children has slept with another person in the room before. No wonder it's awkward."

Um, what the fuck? Is she counting _herself_? Who the fuck has she slept with here?

"Hey, I do not feel awkward that I sleep with my wife. And I'm not ashamed to admit it!" My dad bragged.

"We know." Most the table chorused.

"Yeah, but it's awkward to think that your wife slept with my father, isn't it?" She asked. Her voice seemed completely innocent. It had a curious tone if anything. But the entire table fell completely silent.

My dad was about to scream. But my mom started talking before he could.

"Yeah, I guess that's pretty awkward. But you know what's even more awkward? The fact that the boy you're in love with is sitting in this room with the girl he's going to marry, and that girl is not you."

Hell yeah! Emily choked on her food and I glanced at her. She was fighting so hard to keep from grinning. Caitlyn flushed a little but made no other indication that my mother's words bothered her. They glared at each other.

"…I…really like this chicken!" Jackson exclaimed.

"Me too! It's so juicy!" Lilly hurriedly exclaimed.

"Best chicken I've ever tasted, for sure!" My grandfather agreed.

"Mommy! I need more ketchup!" Adeline complained. My mom seemed grateful for the excuse to leave. She stood up and went into the kitchen to get the ketchup.

Caitlyn had a small smile on her face as she ate her chicken.

"Why do you do that?" I asked. Everyone looked at me and then at her. She looked curiously at me.

"Do what? Say what no one else is brave enough to say?"

"No. Go out of your way to try and hurt people." I responded.

She blinked and then shrugged. She went back to her food. "I never realized I did that."

A silence fell over us.

"Emily?" Lydia hesitantly asked. Emily's hand gripped my knee under the table. I set my hand over hers. I looked at her and tried to tell her everything my mother had told me.

"Yes?" Emily asked. She looked at her mother. Her mother smiled like Emily looking at her was the best thing that ever happened to her. Maybe it was.

"Could you pass me the bread?" She asked.

"Sure."

It was simple. Emily picked the plate up and placed it in her mother's hand. But Emily's hands were shaking when she placed one back in mine and Lydia didn't stop smiling the rest of dinner. Sometimes the biggest things are said in the smallest gestures.

After dinner, most everyone left. Caitlyn stuck around though, waiting for me and Emily to leave. The sunshine had long been eclipsed by angry clouds and a storm was raging now. When the power went out, my mom refused to let me leave.

"I don't want you driving in this, Cole. I'm sure it'll be over in a few minutes. But I'd feel better if you stayed here. We can all pay a game to pass time!" She exclaimed. I knew she wanted Caitlyn to leave, but she was too prideful to tell her to get out. I knew she wanted to be able to prove to herself that she could handle it.

Emily lit the last candle and my dad brought in some lanterns. Once the room was lit as well as possible and the twins were in bed, we all sat in a circle on the living room floor.

"What game are we going to play?" I asked. I didn't want to play a game. I wanted to go to sleep. I wanted Caitlyn to leave. She wasn't a welcomed guest. This reminded me of that time in Virginia when the power went off and me and Emily played Life.

"We could play Never Have I Ever. It doesn't require anything." Caitlyn suggested. She was sitting between Emily and my dad and he kept shooting side glares at her. It was actually really funny.

"Okay, that's good I guess." My mom replied. "Who wants to start?"

"Wait! Let's do this with cards or bingo chips or something. I always mess up the finger thing." My dad complained. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out this insane wad of quarters and gave us all ten. What the hell.

"Dad…why are you carrying around all that money in quarters?" I asked.

"Adeline and Odette like to get candy out of those stupid machines. I like to have quarters to give them." He explained. Mom rolled her eyes.

"Who wants to start?" She asked again.

I shrugged. "I guess I will. Um…never have I ever…been a girl."

The girls glared.

"That was dirty." Emily said. I grinned in response. All the girls took a quarter out of their pile and handed it back to my dad who put them back in his wallet.

"Is it my turn?" Emily asked. We nodded.

"Okay. Um…never have I ever…been drunk." She settled with.

She got all of us with that one. We all removed a quarter and passed it to my dad.

Caitlyn was up. "Never have I ever had a pet."

What a sad, sad life she's lived. All of us gladly gave up that quarter.

It was my dad's turn.

"Never have I ever not been an actor." He exclaimed proudly.

"Liar! You were not an actor in the womb!" My mom argued. She was reluctant to give away another quarter.

"Says you! Ask my mom for the ultrasound videos! I was entertaining even back then!"

"Cheater."

"Just give me a quarter. Sore loser."

She stuck her tongue out at him and threw the quarter at him.

"Do I need to strip for you now?" He joked.

I cleared my throat. "Okay. Back to the game."

My mom looked around the circle at each of us as she thought.

"Hmm…never have I ever…damn. What haven't I done? Um…never have I ever…done illegal drugs."

Fuck.

Caitlyn handed a quarter to my dad. And then she turned to stare at me.

"Well?" She asked. I glared venomously at her.

I could either own up or lie. If I lied, she'd probably just make all this even worse. I grabbed a quarter and handed it to my dad, whose mouth was turned down in disappointment.

"Cole." My mom said. I turned to her. "You promised me you hadn't."

"I don't." I replied shortly. I quickly resumed the game, shooting another glare at Caitlyn. "Never have I ever—"

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Nothing anymore, Mom. It doesn't matter. Let it go." I snapped.

"Don't talk to me like that. You lied to me." She sounded hurt.

"This is why! Please, Mom. Don't define me by my past choices and I won't do it to you."

She fell silent and nodded.

"Never have I ever...been famous." I settled with.

"Sneaky kid." Dad glared. He put one of his quarters in his wallet and my mom did too. Then they stared at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You need to give one up too. While you were in New Zealand, _Star _decided to make you their front page story."

"What?!" I asked. What in the world could I have done to get in the news? I don't do anything interesting anymore.

"Yeah. We'll let you read it later. Let's hurry up the game." Mom said.

Emily, who was oddly quiet, spoke up at that.

"Never have I ever had surgery."

My parents were short a quarter. My mom was losing extensively, with only four quarters left. Me, my dad, and Caitlyn were tied with six left and Emily was winning with seven remaining.

"Never have I ever been pregnant or conceived a child." Caitlyn said.

All of us minus Emily gave up a quarter.

Jake glanced at my mom's pitiful pile of quarters.

"Don't worry baby, I've got your back. Never have I ever not had a birthday that was in the month of November."

My mom smiled and all of us surrendered a quarter.

They quickly formed an alliance.

"Never have I ever in the past ten years not been married to a Ryan."

I'm pretty sure this is cheating. I surrendered a quarter, making my remaining number three. Now Jake and Emily were tied for winning with five and Caitlyn, my mom, and I had three.

I pondered what to ask. I didn't know what to ask that would benefit me and get them.

"Skip me."

"Me too." Emily said.

"Guess it's my turn." Caitlyn said. She stared at our piles. "Hmm. Never have I ever…had a child die."

Emily instinctively lifted her hand as if to slap Caitlyn. She glared at her.

"You're such a bitch." She muttered.

My mom and dad gave up a quarter. I gave up one too.

"You haven't had a child die." Caitlyn reminded me.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I feel like it counts so I don't really care what you think." I snapped. I just didn't want my parents to be alone. My mom and I were down to two, Emily had five, Caitlyn had three, and my dad had four.

It was my dad's turn.

"Never have I ever had a murderer and rapist dick as a father." He said casually. Caitlyn smiled and offered him a quarter.

We all looked hesitantly at my mother. I expected her to have another badass comeback like she had at the table, but she surprised us.

"Never have I ever been to Greenland."

We all looked around in confusion, expecting someone to give up a quarter, but of course no one had been to Greenland.

My turn.

"Never have I ever gone out of my way to make an innocent person's day suck."

Caitlyn gave up another quarter which brought her down to one. But she didn't look concerned. She just smiled.

Emily gave up her turn again.

"Never have I ever been raped." Caitlyn pronounced. It was obvious who she was targeting. My mother never looked away from Caitlyn as she passed my father a quarter.

Caitlyn continued.

"Never have I ever killed someone." Her voice was hard and cold.

My mom gave up her last quarter. She stood up.

"I'm out." She announced.

"Get out of my house." My dad growled, glaring fiercely at Caitlyn.

"No, it's okay, Jake. Let them finish their game."

Emily pushed her quarters back in Jake's hands. She stood up.

"I don't want to play anymore." She mumbled. She looked sick.

I stood up too. Caitlyn followed and I grabbed her arm tightly.

"Cole." My mom warned.

I ignored my mother and pulled Caitlyn with me. She stumbled and tried to keep up with my pace. I led her into the lounge and shut the door after us.

"I should beat the shit out of you." I said. She smiled and lay down on the couch.

"You won't." She said.

"Why did you do that? You said you wanted things to go back, and then you do that. What the fuck are you aiming at?"

She kept her eyes closed. "I am aiming at what I've already achieved."

What the hell is she even talking about?

"What are you going on about?"

"You are curious about me. I am the forbidden fruit." She opened her strikingly blue eyes and smiled. "You are wondering why I did that. You brought me in here to find out. And I know you won't leave me because you need to know that answer."

"That's where you're wrong. I could care less about you. Stay out of my life. Stay out of my parents', stay out of Emily's. Now get the hell out." I turned around to storm out of the room. She stood up and walked over to me. She cocked her head and smiled at me. She reached out a hand and set it on my belt. I jerked away from her.

"You want me so much you don't even realize it."

The door opened and my dad pulled me out. Caitlyn followed. He grabbed her arm gently and steered her out of the house. He slammed the front door in her face.

I walked back into the living room with him. My mom and Emily were sitting on the couch, and of the two, Emily looked more upset. I sat beside her and she leaned against me.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Caitlyn is terrible. She's _sick_." Her voice shook and she grabbed my mother's hand.

"Don't worry about it, Emily. She's just confused." My mom said. She pushed Emily's hair back. "You two might want to get back home. You have dance tomorrow, don't you?"

Emily nodded. We all said goodbye and headed back out to the car.

I started to get back in the car but I noticed Emily wasn't. She was leaning against the car, her head bowed.

"Emily?" I asked.

"I hate her. I _hate _her." Her voice shook.

I walked around the car. The silver paint sparkled in the milky shine. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and once our bodies were pressed together, things felt better.

"Don't worry about my mom, Em. She's okay."

"No. It's not just that." She mumbled into my shoulder.

I pulled back and looked at her. "Then what is it?"

"She knows exactly what to say to make me feel guilty for not being her friend. She knows what to say to make me remember all the fun times we had. She knows what to say to make me wish we were still friends, no matter how bitchy she is. And I hate it. I hate how I can't be indifferent to her and my mother."

I ran my fingers through her curls.

"You're a nice person." I answered. She angrily pushed away from me.

"I'm sick of being fucking _nice._" She turned away and got in the car. I sighed and walked around and got in the car also.

"It's understandable. You've been nice your entire life. It's why you've always had so many friends in different social groups. But you used to be able to tell someone off if they hurt you or someone else. You used to have this spark. What happened?"

She shrugged.

"I guess I realized it doesn't matter what I do. People are going to be jerks. I can scream all I want. But in the end I'll always give in and take them back. Why not just skip the angry part?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that.

"That makes sense. Do you wanna go home and make out?"

Um…wow. I win at this.

She laughed and leaned over, kissing me deeply enough to make me crave more.

"That actually sounds really nice."

Score!


	11. Day's Work

**A/n**: Yes, this is really an update! An update before three months has passed! A 10,552 word update, not a quickly composed 3,000 word one! I know, I'm shocked too. But I promised I'd get this one up quickly so here it is :) Thank you all so incredibly much for all the reviews last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this update!

* * *

**"Take strength from those that need you." -- Phil Collins, "Two Worlds"**

**MILEY'S POV: **

"Are you coming to bed?" Jake asked. I nodded and pointed at the table.

"After I put these dishes in the sink. You can go on ahead though." I picked up three plates and stacked them on top of each other.

"I can help." He replied. He grabbed a cup and I rolled my eyes and pulled it out of his hands.

"Jake, you've been filming. Go sleep. Now."

"Well, as long as I get a choice…" He muttered sarcastically. I laughed and he walked out. I picked up all the dishes and put them in the sink. Once that was done, I leaned against the sink, a lot more exhausted than I thought. I stayed that way until the soft hum of the refrigerator made my head throb and my eyes droop. I walked out of the kitchen and through the living room and down the hall. I gently pushed open the twins' door and stuck my head in. I watched their sleeping forms for a few moments, making sure their chests were rising and falling at the normal speed. I shut the door gently and walked farther down the hall and into the bedroom.

The light was still on and I could see Jake's form in the bed. He was completely under the covers and I assumed he left the light on for me. I couldn't help but smile at the thought. I shut the light off and went into the bathroom. I shut the door and then flipped the light on. I brushed my teeth and pulled my clothes off, replacing them with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I brushed my hair and then turned the light off and opened the door.

My body gratefully sighed in relief as I sank back on the bed. I crawled completely under the covers. I could see Jake's face in the soft, pale white light.

"Are you awake?" I whispered. He answered by wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. I kissed him.

"Do you like my clubhouse?" He joked. The silver down blanket was hovering slightly above us and not quite collapsing on us, so it formed a kind of cave.

"I love it. Thanks for inviting me in." I replied. He smiled and a familiar look in his green eyes made me laugh softly.

"There's only one rule in the clubhouse: you have to play games." He said mischievously. I smiled and pushed my hands up his shirt.

"Oh, really? What games would these be?"

He smirked and grabbed my hands. He brought them to his mouth and kissed them. "There are many types of games we could play under here." He winked.

"Hm…I see…which of these games would you prefer to play?" I played along. He sighed in fake contemplation.

"Well…I'm particularly partial to the one where this happens…" He trailed off and gently pulled my shirt over my head. He tossed it out of the cave. "And then this too…" He reached down and slid the waistband of my shorts down my hips. I pushed them the rest of the way off.

"It sounds fun so far…what happens next?" I asked, mock curiosity inflating my voice. I continued. "Maybe I do this?" I pushed my hands back under his shirt and kept pushing it up until he was free of it. I kissed his chest and moved back into his arms. "And then the game stops because you have to wake up in five hours and you didn't get any sleep last night." I finished.

His hands caressed my back and he groaned. "But sleep is so overrated. Everyone knows it's just something people do to pass time when they can't have sex."

I laughed and pulled back a bit. I stretched my head up and kissed him.

"Goodnight, Jake. I love you."

I settled in his arms.

"Night, Mile. I love you too." I could hear the smile in his voice. There was a pause. "But you're mine at lunch tomorrow, you tease."

I yawned. "Can't wait."

Jake pulled the cover back from our heads and the crisp sound a down blanket makes when moved sounded lovely. The cold air was shocking. He set a warm hand on my head and smoothed my hair back.

"Hey." He whispered.

"Hi." I replied. I tipped my head back and peered up at him. He was beautiful. He looked down at me with concerned eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked. I kissed him a few times before settling back down in his arms and answering his question.

"Yes. She didn't say anything that I wouldn't have thought about at least once that day. She was probably trying to bring up painful memories, but those memories never go away and that's okay. I just feel bad for her. She's pathetic." I mumbled.

He let his chin rest against the top of my head.

"I don't like her. She's freaky. I hope she stays away from Cole and Emily."

I yawned again, my eyes drifting shut. "Me too." I replied.

I allowed myself to drift into a peaceful sleep where, hopefully, I wouldn't dream.

* * *

"Mommy?"

I jerked awake. I opened my eyes and peered into the darkness, my eyes gravitating toward the alarm clock. The bright yellow numbers burned my eyes and I squinted to read it easier. 4:24 AM.

I sat up and blindly opened my arms, inviting whichever of my children happened to need someone to hold them right now into them. A small child crawled into them and I could deduce from the peach scent that it was, as usual, Adeline. (She had sparkly peach scented lotion she liked to put on).

"Hi, honey. What's wrong?" I whispered. She curled tighter up against me and I lay back with her, pulling the covers over us. It was cold.

"Nightmare." She whispered. She set her warm head against my shoulder and I kissed the top of it.

"Can you get back to sleep or do you want to get up?" I asked. I prayed she wanted to go back to sleep. But I remembered what it was like to wake up from a terrible nightmare and more often than not, I didn't have any desire to go back to sleep. She was silent for a moment and I was starting to think she had fallen asleep.

"I don't wanna." She mumbled against my shoulder.

I pushed her hair back from her forehead. "Don't wanna what?"

"Go back to sleep." She said. I sighed and sat back up.

"Okay, Addie. We don't have to. We can watch a movie. How does that sound?"

I could see a vague outline of her face and I saw a small smile. I had to smile in retaliation.

"Good." She said.

I stood up and set her on her feet. I walked to the bathroom door and pulled a robe on and picked her back up. I carefully padded past their room, careful to not also wake up Odette.

I set Adeline on the couch. I kneeled in front of the TV and started her favorite princess movie, and then walked over and kissed her head.

"I'm going to make us some breakfast. I'll be right in the kitchen if you need me."

I stood in there until the movie actually started, digging through my pockets trying to find a rubber band. When I located one, I walked toward the kitchen, pulling my hair up as I went.

"Wait!" Adeline squeaked. I turned back around and she slid off the couch and ran after me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Don't go." She said.

I picked her back up and cradled her to me, sighing. I rubbed her back.

"Oh, Adeline. What are we gonna do with you?"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. I brought her with me into the kitchen and set her on the island. Her Sleeping Beauty pajama bottoms were twisted all around her legs—probably from kicking at her covers.

"Do you have the same nightmare each night?" I asked. I fixed the pants legs and looked up at her. The skin under her green eyes was puffy and slightly darker than normal, as if she hadn't gotten any sleep at all. I kissed her cheek and lifted myself up on the island beside her. She leaned against my side.

"Hmm?" I pushed, trying to get an answer to my previous question. She shook her head.

"What was this one about?" I asked, knowing good and well she wasn't going to tell me. She never did.

"I don't wanna talk about it." She mumbled.

I wondered if I was supposed to push her or not. My gut told me not to. But a little voice in my head wondered if it would be better in the long run if I found out. I was probably handling this entire thing incorrectly—most parenting magazines would freak out if they knew not only did I let her sleep in my bed when she was scared, but I got up with her and didn't make her go back to sleep. They would say I needed to force her to go back to sleep in her own bed and make her talk about it. But I didn't want to see her in pain. I wanted her to be happy as quickly as possible. Maybe I'm wrong for that. But so be it. At least she'll be loved.

"Okay, sweetie. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Biscuits with jelly!" She suggested enthusiastically.

"Do you want to help me make them?" I asked. She smiled even wider and nodded, her eyes full of spring grass, encircled by new pavement with a drop in the middle, and pure clouds all around.

We made breakfast together for the next hour and by the time we were done, the oven was almost bursting with creations, the kitchen smelled heavenly, and we were covered in flour.

Jake stumbled in a few minutes after we finished. His hair was sticking straight up in the back and Adeline and I burst into laughter the moment we saw him.

"Daddy…you have a molock!" Adeline giggled. I laughed and walked over to him, smoothing the hair down.

"You had a _molock_." I said innocently. He set a hand on the small of my back momentarily and smiled, and I could almost sense what he was thinking.

He walked over to Adeline and hoisted her in his arms. He tickled her and she shrieked with laughter, grinning so hard it almost looked like it would break her face apart.

"Daddy! Stop!" She laughed. He paused and looked at her seriously.

"Did you not like my Mohawk?" He pouted.

"It was…weird! Me and mommy made breakfast!" Adeline turned around in his arms and pointed at the oven.

"Mmm, smells good! What did you guys make?" He carried her over to the table and set her down in a chair. He sat beside her.

"Biscuits and muffins and bacon!" She exclaimed.

I left them to their discussion about breakfast and went to check on Odette. I peeked in the room and she was still curled up under her blankets. She didn't need to wake up for another hour so I decided to let her sleep.

I reentered the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks when I did. Adeline and Jake were covered in grape jam. They both stopped their battle when I walked in and fell still. I took a deep, even breath and shut my eyes for a moment, attempting to retain my anger, and then opened them back.

I smiled tightly at Jake. "Babe…do you care to explain why you and our child are covered in jelly?"

It didn't matter why; this was still going to push me off schedule because now I'll have to bathe Adeline before I drop them off at Lana's. Once school started back in late August, the twins would be starting kindergarten. However, seeing as though all schools and pre-schools were out for summer break, the twins stayed with Lana and Jim while Jake and I went to work. Sometimes I brought them along, but most the time they preferred to play with their cousin Abby.

Once the twins were born, I sold my share of the Asclepius Center for Recovery. I hadn't wanted to give it up. It was a job that enabled me to help people and feel able and important. But I found, after all I had been through, I couldn't do it. I tried to go back for a week. I parked a block away. I didn't use my bathroom. But it was too hard. I looked at the girls and I felt what I had already been through all over again. Maybe that would have been bearable if I could have helped them. My intimate experience with their pain wasn't helping me help anyone, though. I couldn't tell them how to make the pain go away. I was only able to endure my pain once I realized I was pregnant. I couldn't exactly tell them to run off and get pregnant.

I also found that I couldn't make myself tell them to not contemplate suicide. I couldn't be the one to tell them they had to be here, that they had to endure this. What kind of life would they live now? What kind of life would the seven year olds who were raped by their own fathers live? A horrible one, most likely. My experience taught me that no matter what that center did, it wasn't going to make it go away because the memory was indelible, and having been on the other side and having felt what it was like to feel like that, I couldn't preach to them that suicide is never the answer, because that was the answer I was going to pick for a while.

Until this year I stayed at home with the twins. But when they started preschool it got really lonely around the house. I wasn't meant to sit at a home. I was meant to have some sort of job. And so this year I started working with Jake. His acting center was still going strong and it had two extra branches to it now—dancing and singing. The center basically bred strong triple threats. There were classes separated into different age groups and the day started at ten A.M. and went until three. Jake had worked out a filming schedule now that allowed him to film from 6 AM to 9:30 and then from 3:30 PM to 6, so he was always in his classroom, ready to teach future stars about acting.

I took over the singing branch hesitantly. I hadn't really been much of a singer since Isabella died. There was a point when it was something I ran to for comfort, but after a few years that turned into Jake. When it was no longer that important to me, I knew I had to quit. And I did. Until I decided working with these kids and teaching them how to do the one thing I loved more than anything else as a child would be a great thing. It _is _a great thing. I get to eat lunch with Jake every day and sing for four hours.

Jake smiled innocently at me. "Well…you see…I was trying to help her spread it on the biscuit…but then she got an attitude and flung some at me…and I guess it escaladed from there."

I gave him A Look and pulled Adeline out of his arms.

"You're going to take a quick bath and wash off and then you can finish breakfast with Odette." I told her sternly.

I started walking toward the bathroom with her.

"But I wanna eat breakfast with Daddy!" She complained.

"Well, you and Daddy made a mess." I reminded her. Jake suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me to a stop. He leaned down and kissed my neck.

"It's not a catastrophe, Mile. I'm sorry. She's up early anyway. You have plenty of time." He soothed. I relaxed a bit. He was right.

He pulled Adeline into his arms. "I'll go give her a bath; you go sit down and eat breakfast."

I shook my head and pulled her back into mine. She was looking annoyed. "You have to leave soon. You go eat breakfast. I'll give her a bath."

He looked longingly at the food on the table.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yep," I said. I started to walk toward the bathroom. I stopped and turned back around. "You're gonna need the energy for lunchtime." I winked and his laugh echoed around the house as we walked to our separate destinations.

I started the water in the tub and Adeline pulled her pajamas off.

"It's cold!" She complained.

"I know, Addie. I'll go turn the air down. I'll be right back; don't get in the water."

I ran out of the bathroom and down the hall to where the thermostat was. I adjusted it and ran back into the bathroom. Addie was obediently standing where I left her, watching the tub fill with water. I turned the faucet off when the tub was half full and she climbed in.

She washed her body with sparkly peach scented body wash that matched the lotion she had. I quickly washed her hair for her, making sure to get all the chunks of purple jelly out. Once she was clean, I drained the tub and pulled her princess bathrobe off the hook on the wall. I helped her into it and tied it tight and she ran toward the kitchen, screaming about food.

I woke Odette up and carried her into the kitchen. Her eyes refused to open and she fell back asleep in my arms on the short journey to the kitchen.

Adeline was already in her seat, munching on the biscuit she and Jake had attempted to put jam on. I gently woke up Odette and set her in her seat. She yawned and lay back down against the table. I sighed.

"Odette, what's wrong?" I sat beside her and set a hand on her warm back.

"I'm sleepy." She whined. I gently pulled the rubber band that was holding her braid in place out of her hair. I slowly unwound the rich braid so her hair was soft, golden waves, like the ocean during sunset.

"Did you not sleep well?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Adeline was crying and it woke me up." She replied.

I looked at Adeline, concern seeping even further into me.

"Addie? Why were you crying?" I asked. She hadn't been crying when she came to my room. Had she been sitting alone in her bed, crying for a long enough period of time that it woke Odette up?

She pushed her bacon around her plate.

"I didn't know that I was." She admitted honestly. She was crying in her sleep? Maybe Jake was right. Maybe we did need to see someone about her nightmares.

"Well you were. All night. It was annoying." Odette complained. I kissed her head, stood up, and went across the kitchen to get her a plate. I put food on her plate and got them both a drink and then set it across from them.

I listened to them talk and thought about Cole. A part of me really couldn't believe he actually did illegal drugs. I knew he got into a lot of bad things, but I guess I always assumed that was sex, cigarettes, and alcohol. What if he had been on heroin? What if he was on LSD? Or ecstasy? Or any of those other terrible, addictive drugs. I prayed that it was marijuana. At least that one wouldn't have burned holes in his brain.

He was a great person. He was creative, beautiful, smart, considerate, but also alone. I knew he always would be, even after he married Emily. No one would be able to connect intellectually with him on his own level because he thought in different ways than everyone else. He was like a painting and no painting can ever be interpreted the same way twice. People look at it and think it's simple and declare that it means one thing, but it can be so many different things. It can _make_ itself appear as different things. Only the artist who made the painting could really see that no one would ever fully understand every part of it. I just hoped he hadn't realized that yet. And I hoped it wasn't my fault. Hobbies are fantastic. Art is great. But by abandoning him when he was younger, he attached himself totally to art and it morphed into such a big part of him that I think that's the only thing he couldn't live without. He's never been able to connect to a human as well as he connects to that easel and that paintbrush, not even Emily.

But they made each other happy. He could trust her more than anyone else and that is important. His art scares the shit out of me though. If he doesn't succeed, if his pride continues to diminish because of it…it won't be good. I'm afraid he'll become depressed. I'm afraid for him because he is alone in the worst sense of the word. He has many people that love him, but no one who really understands him.

"I'm done eating, Mommy!" Odette exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve of my robe. I glanced at the clock. I was doing okay time wise. We all stood up from the table and I took their hands and we walked to their bedroom. They sat on Adeline's bed and played with her stuffed animals while I picked out their outfits. I never dressed them alike; why would I? They have two completely different personalities.

I picked out a white eyelet lace summer dress with hot pink ribbon trimming for Adeline. I laid that out on Odette's bed with a pair of pink socks and underwear and her white shoes. I grabbed a blue and green polka dotted shirt with green shorts for Odette and she started protesting.

"No! Superstars do _not _wear that!" She said. "They wear sparkles! And leather!"

Oh my God. My tiny daughter is already talking about wearing sequin tank tops and leather pants.

I turned back around and peered in the closet. I found an orange smocked cami top with a few rhinestones on it and a pair of dark denim Bermuda shorts. I offered those to her and she grinned.

"Perfect! I should wear high heels too! Like that girl yesterday."

Um, yeah right. The day I let my child dress like that whore is the day I've OFFICIALLY lost my mind.

"Maybe in…fifteen years." I laughed.

Adeline had quietly dressed herself and was sitting contently on her bed, brushing Prince Corey's hair with a comb. I set Odette's complete change of clothes on her bed and went to look for her shoes. I grabbed Odette's sandals and, once she dressed herself in her "superstar clothes", I put them on her. She leaped off the bed and into my arms. She kissed my cheek.

"Thanks, Mommy. I love you."

My heart felt like it had been left out too long in the sun. Hearing any of my children say they loved me made me feel impossibly happy, but because Odette was such a wild and kind of harsh child, it was always surprising when she said it.

"I love you too, my little superstar."

She grinned hard at that.

They followed me into the bathroom and I brushed their hair and settled a headband on their heads. I glanced at them one last time, making sure they looked okay.

"Okay, you two know the drill! Go watch TV while Mommy gets dressed." I set a hand on their backs and led them into the living room. Adeline's princess movie had ended a long time ago. I restarted it since she never actually watched it and they settled on the couch.

When I entered my room, I did a quick time check. I had about thirty minutes to get dressed and get out of the house. Lovely.

I went into the bathroom and washed my face in the sink. I brushed my teeth and opened a drawer, pulling out the circular case that held my birth control pills. I grabbed the glass on the counter, filled it with water, and swallowed my pill.

I wanted to take a shower but I was too afraid to do that when I was the only adult home. I couldn't listen out for the girls and I wouldn't know if something happened. I stood in the middle of my room for a full minute, trying to decide what to do. I finally made a decision. I went back into the living room.

"Hey, girls, can you guys come watch that in my room?" I asked.

"Yes!" Odette exclaimed.

I moved them into the bedroom. I started the movie and they curled up on the bed. I shut the bedroom door and I locked it. Was I paranoid? Yes. Did I have a reason to be? Yes. If I didn't lock the door and someone came in the house and killed them while I was in another room…I would never forgive myself.

"If you need me, just knock on the bathroom door, okay?" I said. They nodded, absorbed in the movie once more.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door and stripped out of my clothes. I started the shower and jumped in almost immediately, intent on taking the quickest shower known to mankind. But the soothing steam and the sound of the water pounding against the tile swept me away and even though I washed and shaved as quickly as possible, fifteen minutes had passed by the time I turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around me.

I shuddered at the cold air. I sat on the counter and rubbed lotion on my legs and applied deodorant. Then, I pulled my robe back on. I started to walk out of the bathroom when the fogged up mirror caught my eye.

A shadow of the words "I love you" caught my eye. I smiled. Jake must have written it on the fogged up mirror last night when he took a shower. When the mirror fogged up again, it left a ghost of that sentence.

I went into the bedroom and grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand. I sent him a quick text ("I love you too") and then pulled out my clothes for tomorrow. I stepped back in the bathroom and pulled on a deep red bra and panty set that drove Jake crazy (because I'm slightly evil), a navy blue pencil skirt, a red tank top, and a white blouse. I went into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of red high heels.

"You get to wear high heels." Odette said, a pout forming on her lips.

"I'm a grown up." I explained. I leaned back and grabbed her. She shrieked with laughter. I kissed her forehead.

"One day you'll wear these so much you'll get sick of them." I promised.

"Never!" She exclaimed. She jumped off the bed and ran over my closet. She pulled out a pair of black heels and proceeded to attempt to try them on.

Adeline looked up from her princess movie.

"I wanna play dress up too!" She screamed happily. I caught her before she made it over to the closet.

"We can play dress up later when you guys get back from Abby's house, okay? But right now we have to leave."

Odette sighed and carefully kicked the shoes off.

"Will you two go grab a sweater while I put on some makeup?" I asked.

Adeline's eyes filled with longing. "Mommy, will you put some lipstick on me? Please? Please?"

Odette joined in the begging. "Me too! The red kind!"

I had the word no halfway out before I realized how stupid that was. Why was I denying time to spend with them? Being late is worth getting to spend time with them.

"Okay, makeover time!" I said. They cheered. For the next thirty minutes, my girls and I played around with the extensive makeup collection I've accumulated over the years. We all three ended up with bright red lipstick on (although I dabbed theirs a bit to lessen the color) and I put tan, shimmery eyeshadow on them. I applied a darker brown color to my eyelids.

Odette and Adeline stared at themselves in the mirror.

"I look like a princess." Adeline smiled, smoothing her dress.

"I look like a movie star!" Odette breathed.

"You both look beautiful." I fixed Adeline's headband.

Odette turned around. "You look beautiful too, Mommy."

I smiled at her. "Thanks, honey. Now, are we all ready to leave?"

My question was answered by Paint. He sleepily pranced in the bathroom and barked sharply. He gave me an annoyed look and barked again.

"Aw, did Jake not feed you?" I asked him. He barked once more. I pet him and he followed me into the kitchen. I opened the pantry and grabbed hold of his massive bag of dog food. I pulled it across the kitchen slowly and then tipped it over a bit. Food poured into his bowl and he immediately started eating it. I began the hard task of pushing the food back into the pantry while wearing heels.

"Your phone is ringing, Mommy!" Odette screamed from the bedroom.

I pushed harder against the heavy bag. It didn't seem to want to leave.

"Answer it for me, please!" I yelled back. After a few more moments of shoving, the bag began to move. I put it back in the pantry and shut the door.

Odette and Adeline entered the room.

"Grandma wants to talk to you!" Odette said. She pushed the phone out at me. Jesus Christ. Alana can talk for hours.

I put the phone to my ear hesitantly.

"Hi, Alana." I said.

"Miley! Do you know where my son is? I can't get him to answer his phone! Is he there with you?" She sounded angry.

I glanced at the clock and practically had an aneurysm. I motioned at Odette and Adeline to walk to the front door. I grabbed my purse off the table in the foyer and unlocked the door. I opened it and Adeline and Odette ran toward the car.

"HEY! SLOW DOWN!" I yelled after them. I unlocked the car door and they climbed in.

"He's filming, remember? He's been filming every morning for the past three months." I replied. I closed the door and stuck the key back in the lock and turned it. I pulled the key out and turned the doorknob, making sure it was secured.

Alana paused. "Oh. Yes. I do remember that now, actually…oh my. Why did I forget that in the first place? Do you think I'm getting Alzheimer's?"

My purse slipped off my shoulder and fell to the ground. "Fuck!"

"What did you just say, Miley? Are my son's children with you?" Alana scolded. I kneeled down and propped the phone between my shoulder and ear as I put everything back in my purse. I carefully climbed to my feet and set it back on my shoulder. I realized I'd put my keys back in my purse and I resisted the urge to curse again. I slid the purse off my shoulder and frantically dug through it, searching for the car keys.

"_My_ children are in the car. I'm not." I snapped. Most the time she was nice, but sometimes she got in moods where she didn't approve of the way I did things, and in those moments she referred to my children as strictly Jake's kids.

I grasped the keys and pulled the phone back on my shoulder, adjusting the phone.

"You know, that's probably why Cole has such a dirty mouth! Children really do turn out just like their parents and if you had a dirty mouth it explains why he has one! I heard his bad words yesterday." She said, a pompous tone in her voice.

I climbed into the driver's seat and turned around.

"Buckle up," I whispered to Adeline and Odette. I watched them until their seatbelts were on, and then I turned back around and started the car.

"Jake has the dirtiest mouth I've ever heard…did he get that from you or Jim?" I asked, feigning innocence. Technically he didn't cuss _that _much…but he had a dirty mouth in bed. It still counts.

"Jake cusses around his children??"

I was so annoyed with Alana that I wasn't paying much attention as I backed up. I slammed on the brakes as a white car came out of nowhere. I felt a sick stirring in the pit of my stomach as my mind immediately attempted to push me into a memory that it associated with this. I fought it violently, my heart starting to feel the first effects of that slow ache. I turned around and eyed the twins. They looked perfectly okay.

I breathed deeply. "I've got to go, Alana. I'll tell Jake to call you. Bye."

I ended the call and rested my head against the steering wheel for a moment. I focused on my stomach and my heart and worked to fight back the overwhelming despair that was attempting to take control.

"Tell me about your princess movie." I whispered to the twins. The car's engine was the only noise I could hear and it wasn't very distracting.

Adeline immediately burst into an animated story about her princess movie and I focused on her beautiful little voice until the sad flame stopped licking angrily at my heart and settled back down to a quiet simmer. I smiled a little. I had this under control.

I paid immense concentration to the road the rest of the drive. When I pulled up to Lana and Joe's modest green house, it was nine thirty. I left the car running while I ran the girls up to the front door. I rang the doorbell and Lana answered. She ushered her nieces in and then laughed at me.

I called after the twins. "HEY! BYE! I LOVE YOU!" I heard them repeat the sentiment from Abby's room.

"You might want to brush your hair." Lana suggested.

Hair! I knew I was forgetting something.

"And you forgot a tanktop." She pointed. I looked down in shock. Sure enough, the red tanktop wasn't under my blouse. I could have sworn I put that on this morning.

"Damn!" I leaned against the door frame in defeat. I was going to be late and nothing was going to stop it now. I had to run all the way home and get that damn tanktop that I SWEAR I put on this morning.

"Nice bra though!" She said cheerfully. "I don't guess my brother would mind it too much if you just went like that."

I laughed along with her, imaging Jake's expression. "He wouldn't, but the parents of the kids I'm teaching might mind a little bit. Do you have a red tank top I can borrow?"

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and I noticed she had really pretty hands. She walked away and returned a few moments later with a red camisole.

"You're a job-saver. Literally."

"Yeah right. He would not fire you for wearing that. But what's mine is yours, dear sister of mine. See you this afternoon!"

I ran out to my car and jumped back in, slamming the door shut. I put the car in reverse and backed out, speeding toward work.

But of course Malibu traffic wasn't going to permit that.

I made it a few blocks before the traffic became congested. When it came to a complete standstill, I put the car in park, pushed my seat back, and slid the camisole up my legs and over my hips and up under my white blouse. I unbuttoned the blouse and slid my arms out of it, sticking them in the straps of the camisole and then putting the blouse back on.

The traffic was still insane by the time I finished getting dressed. I put my foot on the brake and put the car back in drive. I dug through my purse and called Jake.

"Tardy." He greeted me.

I sighed. "I know, I'm sorry! Odette had a prima donna moment, and the twins really wanted a makeover, and your _mother _called, and—why am I explaining this to you?"

I could see the smug look on his face. "Because I'm your boss and you're late for work."

"Right, _boss. _Well, I'm on my way, but traffic is really backed up so I have no idea how late I'm going to be." I explained. I pulled the sun visor down and flipped open the mirror. My hair was atrocious. I dug through my purse until I found my hairbrush, and then I ran it through my hair until it looked presentable.

"What do I do about your classes until you get here?" He asked.

I smirked. "You can teach them too! I know you're secretly an amazing singer."

He freaked out. "No! No way! Jake Ryan doesn't _sing_! You better be here or you're gonna be in big trouble."

I couldn't keep from laughing. I leaned back in the driver's seat and changed the transmission back to park. "Oh, really? You must think you control me."

"Hey, don't doubt me! I might fire you, you never know!" He exclaimed defensively.

"No you won't." I said confidently.

I could hear the smile. "And how do you know that?"

"Three reasons: One, you love me too much. Two, you like attempting to boss me around. And three, if you fire me we don't get to have lunchtime sex."

He was quiet on the other end.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm not gonna fire you." He said. We laughed and I suddenly got a feeling that something wasn't right. I turned the oven off, Moose was fed, I took my birth control pill, I didn't eat breakfast but I had a granola bar in classroom…what did I forget? What was wrong?

The traffic picked up to a crawl and I realized what was wrong the minute I passed the building.

"Jake, do you think it'd be okay if I came in at eleven?" I asked.

He sensed the change in my voice immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I think something is going on with Cole." I said, eyeing the store where his car was parked out front.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"I have a weird feeling. I want to go check on him. Is that okay? If not I'll—"

He cut me off. "No, it's okay. I was just kidding. I can watch them until you get here. But I'm not singing." His voice took on the familiar joking tone near the end of his sentence.

"Okay, thanks, baby. I'll be there soon."

I ended the call and began the daunting task of finding a place to park. I ended up parking a block down at a fancy looking salon.

When I entered the shop, I understood immediately why I was there.

Cole was sitting in a chair and that Michael kid was standing in front of him. They were whispering and I watched Michael quickly exchange something with Cole, but I didn't see what it was.

No. It wasn't drugs. I just thought that because I recently found out about that. It could be a million other things.

But why were they being so secretive?

I hid behind a shelf as that Michael kid walked out. He creeped me out. Once he was gone, Cole got up and went into a back room. Where was he going?

I walked up to the counter. There was a young man behind it. He was playing some really vulgar video game and cussing under his breath every few minutes. I cleared my throat.

He quickly paused his game. His name tag said Stephen. I was confused, because that was the owner of this place. What young kid owns a pawn shop?

"Your son would be...well, actually, I don't know where he is." Stephen peered around the shop. "He was just here a minute ago…"

"It's fine, I'll wait."

He shrugged and went back to his video game. I went back to browsing the shelves. There were many interesting things. I walked up to the long glass counters full of jewelry and traced my hand along the silver strip, staring at the sparkling contents.

I almost fell over when my eyes caught something. My stomach fell to my toes and I swayed.

"Stephen." I called. He put his controller down and walked over.

"Yes?" He asked.

I pointed at the necklace.

"Who gave that to you?" I breathed, incredulity coloring my every word.

He peered closely at it. We stared in silence at the tiny flowers the diamonds made and the three diamonds that separated each flower.

"I can't say I remember. I'm sorry. Are you interested in it? The clasp is broken. You'd have to replace it." He said.

"I am interested." I muttered. I thought about that day, after Jake and I found out I was pregnant with Joy, he pulled this out and gave it to me. I wore it for years and years after that, until that bastard. And now, it was here, in the little jewelry/pawn shop Cole sold his paintings in.

"Well, because the clasp is broken, some money was taken off. I wasn't even really sure how much this thing was worth but I'm putting it at two hundred." He said.

"That's fine. I want it." I replied immediately. He could have said it was a million dollars and I would have bought it back.

I purchased my necklace back. He put it in a black box and I opened it. It needed to be cleaned, and the clasp was broken, but other than that you couldn't even begin to tell what kind of history it had. I closed the lid back and put the box in my purse, feeling like I'd just found a missing part of myself.

Cole came out of the bathroom at that moment. I eyed him, trying to notice any changes in him. He just looked worn out.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he saw me. He walked over to me and I hugged him tightly.

"Hi, Cole." I smiled at him. He smiled back, but it was kind of forced.

"Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?" He asked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin seemed paler than usual.

"I just came to visit. We didn't really get to talk yesterday." He started walking back to his easel and chair. I leaned against the counter beside the chair.

"Yeah, that stupid whore was getting in the way." He yawned.

"Having trouble getting used to California time?" I asked. He nodded and set his forehead against the easel. He was wearing a gray polo Alana bought him and it was wrinkled as if he'd slept in it.

Something just wasn't right with him.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm just tired." He mumbled.

"Yeah right. What's wrong?" I pushed.

He didn't move for a few seconds.

"What would you do if I did something bad?" He asked quietly.

I froze for a moment. Not drugs. Please.

"I would love you all the same." I said at once.

He moved his forehead down from the easel and rested it against the canvas that was covered with an old sheet.

"What if I did something _really _bad?" He whispered.

I set a hand on his shoulder. "My answer stays the same."

He didn't respond this time. I stood there for three minutes, waiting. But he didn't talk, he didn't move, he just sat there.

I kneeled down beside him.

"Cole. Holding things in doesn't help anything. It doesn't solve anything. You are not alone." I lied.

He mumbled something.

"What?" I asked.

"What if I cheated on Emily?" He asked, louder this time.

I was very taken aback by that. Had he cheated on her? That was the last thing I expected from him.

"Then you made a mistake. People make those all the time." I assured him. He stopped talking again. "Did you make a mistake, Cole?" I asked gently.

He lifted his head finally. He just looked tired.

"No. But I think I'm going to."

He sat all the way up, and his foot hit the sheet and it fell off the canvas. I stared in confusion. It looked like he'd painted an entire painting, and had then taken a big paintbrush and painted over the entire thing with black. A small stripe was left on the right side of it. I could see what looked like a bit of ocean, some sand, a beautifully eerie puddle in the sand, and a woman's hand, holding tight to what appeared to be a glass ball.

"Talk to me, Cole." I begged.

He stared at that hand and then shook his head.

"I'm fine. I'm good. Sorry. I just need to sleep. I'm out of it. I love you, Mom. Thanks for coming down here. Have fun at work." He stood back up and disappeared into that back room again. I stood there for another minute, hoping he'd come back out and tell me what was going on, but I knew he wasn't going to. I finally left.

* * *

"Our lesson for today is timeliness! I don't know what that has to do with singing, but that's the word for today. Being on time is very important, wouldn't you say, Mrs. Ryan?"

I halted. I was hoping I could sneak into my office without the kids seeing how late I was, but of course Jake was thinking we should make a life lesson out of this. I turned around slowly and offered the students a smile. I glared at Jake.

"Of course. Being on time is very important indeed." I agreed.

Was he wearing that shirt this morning? It looked really good on him. Really, really good.

"Staring is also not polite, right, guys?" Jake was about to pee himself he was getting so much humor out of this.

"Then I guess you should control yourself around me, Mr. Ryan." I smirked.

The lunch bell rang. Jake gave me a look that clearly said: _I'll deal with you in a minute_.

He escorted the class to lunch. I walked into his office and sat on the couch while I waited for him to return. I stood up and walked to his desk, eyeing the scripts that littered the surface.

He entered the room and promptly locked the door after him. I turned around and walked up to him and kissed him slowly. When I pulled back, he smiled at me and pulled me into his arms.

"What did you find out?" He asked. I opened my mouth to tell him all about the necklace, and Cole, and perhaps even the almost-car-wreck this morning and why it had bothered me so much, but I found that I didn't want to. I just didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about it. I'd been thinking so much all morning and I just didn't want to think about anything right now.

"Let's not talk about that." I suggested. I grabbed his tie and pulled his lips back toward mine. Something in this kiss fueled the fire. I let him press me against the wall and I pulled him as close as he could get, making out with him and pulling at the buttons on his shirt simultaneously.

He broke the kiss, his face flushed and his breathing uneven. "Fuck!"

"Fuck is right." I forced out as I struggled for oxygen.

I moved one of his legs in between mine and he pressed himself against me again, joining our lips together and sticking his hands up whatever he could reach. My head was blissfully empty and I didn't worry about anything except where in this office he was going to make love to me.

I couldn't get the fucking buttons undone on his shirt, and it was pissing me off. I broke the kiss so I could focus on the buttons but my head was throbbing so much I couldn't really focus. I was about the rip the damn thing open when he took over and unbuttoned the last buttons. I pushed it off him and moved back into his arms. He abandoned my lips and he kissed down my neck in a way that was irresistible. He suddenly pressed the knee of the leg that was between my legs against the wall. He looped an arm around my and slid me up his leg and into his arms, so my legs were wrapped around his waist and he was holding me. I kicked my shoes off and I vaguely heard the loud sound they made as they fell to the floor. He continued kissing down my neck and it was my turn.

"Holy shit," I gasped.

He paused in kissing to make his customary cocky statement. "There's way more where that came from."

He pulled my blouse and tanktop off me and continued kissing down my body and I couldn't take it anymore. I grasped his face and made him look at me.

"Put me down." I ordered.

He set me down and I grabbed his belt loops, pulling him with me. I shoved the scripts off his desk and sat on the edge of it and I gave him a very clear look. I lay back on the surface and he crawled over me, his lips finding skin again (it was like they were magnetized) and I couldn't remember my own name. His hands seemed to cover every inch of my body and it was like my entire body was a coil, ready to spring at any moment. He was getting annoyed with my clothes and he pulled my pencil skirt up to my waist, wadding it there so it was out of the way. He traced gently up my thigh with the backs of his fingernails and it seemed like I had to be on drugs because surely nothing can feel that good.

"Oh God!" I yelped. Jake quickly set a hand over my mouth, laughing.

"I have to warn you, Mrs. Ryan," he whispered against my skin, "actors are known for their mind-blowing talent in bed. And you have got to keep it down. I know it'll be hard." He winked. Okay, so he had a dirty mouth problem, and I had a volume problem. We all have our quirks.

I pulled his lips back to mine and I kissed him until every part of my mouth was tired. I pulled back and smirked at him.

"You know what they say about popstars, right?"

He yanked at my pencil skirt.

"I can't say I remember but I pray to God I'm about to find out." He peered closely at the skirt, attempting to find a zipper.

"I'll give you a hint…in Germany, "popstar" is slang for "pornstar"." I whispered.

He stopped pulling at the skirt.

"Can I just _please_ just rip this to shreds? If you let me I swear you'll never have to buy me another Christmas present as long as I live."

* * *

Empty head.

Full heart.

It should always be this way.

Jake and I were lying together on the floor of his office. In retrospect, the desk was a bad idea. My body hurt from the hardness of the surface and desks are covered in things that fall to the ground. So yes, very bad idea.

"I'm glad I married a popstar." Jake said. I looked up at him and he smiled, his eyes lighting up magnificently.

I moved my head from his arm to his chest.

"I'm glad I married an actor." I smiled back at him.

His hands moved to my hair and he stroked his fingers through it. At first it was soothing, but then I felt a sharp pain that made me flinch and sit up.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, more in shock than in pain.

Jake look concerned. "What is it?" He asked.

I gently touched my head and right above my forehead I felt a giant knot forming. I glanced at the desk and I added another reason it was a bad idea.

He propped himself up with his elbows and peered at where my fingers were.

"Holy shit! Where'd you get that?" He asked in alarm.

I couldn't stop from laughing. I dropped my hands from the knot and lay back down in his arms.

"My head was knocking against the computer monitor." I explained.

"What?? Why didn't you say something?" He looked at me in horror and then looked back at the knot. He gently pushed my hair out of the way and peered at it with an anguished expression.

"I didn't actually feel it. I mean I could hear the sound my head was making when it hit the monitor…but I didn't feel any pain." I explained. But it sure hurt now.

He stared. "Your head was slamming repeatedly into the corner of a computer monitor for like ten minutes and you didn't feel any pain?" I shook my head. A slow, confident smile spread over his face. "Hell yeah! I'm so amazing I put you on sensory overload and your body couldn't even process pain as pain! It probably took that pain as pleasure! I knew I should have been a pornstar."

His cocky grin faded after a minute. He gently kissed my head. "But I'm really sorry you're hurt."

I shrugged. "No pain, no gain, right? I'm just trying to figure out how to hide this one from your mother. She seems to always notice when I'm hurt. And I don't think she bought the stair sledding last time."

Last week we tried making love on the floor…and let's just say the carpet burn wasn't too kind. And let's also say Alana noticed said carpet burn on me, and I lied and told her I was sliding down stairs with carpet on them.

"Just say you hit your head on your car door. She'll probably believe that one." He laughed.

I sat up and leaned against the wall. Jake sat up beside me.

"Not that these forbidden office love making sessions aren't good, because they are, but I miss actually having sex in our bed. On a mattress. With soft sheets. And all that good jazz." I said.

"You and me both! After the movie things will start settling down."

I laughed. "I hope they're not going to _settle down_. I'm not done with you yet. Give me a few more years." I winked and he laughed.

"Good one. But I meant our lives, not my pride and glory."

I laughed again and leaned against him.

"I love you." I reminded him.

He carefully stroked my hair back, avoiding the knot.

"I love you too."

I sighed and let my eyes close. "I don't want to start thinking again."

"Hey, if you want to…" He trailed off jokingly, pointing back up at the desk.

I knocked his shoulder with mine and sighed.

"When I was leaving the house, I almost ran into a car, and it reminded me of that morning when I was leaving for work and I almost lost it like I did all those years ago but I kept it under control. At that shop Cole works at I found the necklace you got me when we found out I was pregnant with Joy. The one Luke stole. I saw Michael hand Cole something and it looked like it was drugs. I talked to Cole and he said he thinks he's going to cheat on Emily." I rushed everything out at once, and once I told them to him, I felt better.

He gaped at me.

"What?!"

I pressed my face into his arm. "I am _not _repeating all that."

"…and to think the most interesting thing that happened in my day was this." He muttered. He pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms completely around me. "You are fine, Mile. I promise. You have got this under control. You won't get depressed like you were before. And as for the necklace…that's great. At least, I think it's great. You're getting everything he stole from you back, little by little. And if Cole's taking drugs I'm gonna kick his ass! We'll have to keep an eye on him. And the thing about cheating on Emily: What?!"

I allowed myself to rest for the first time since 4 AM this morning. I breathed in the scent of his skin and felt so peaceful that I could have been dead.

"I think it has something to do with that Caitlyn girl." I admitted. The hands of the girl in that painting had red nails, and Caitlyn did yesterday. I noticed because it looked rather trampy on her. But what did her holding the glass ball mean? Was that maybe the world? Maybe it symbolized an empty world?

"If he leaves Emily for that trashy no-good whore, I'm going to have to seriously wonder about his sanity! He loves Emily. Why would he do that?" Jake asked.

"You know, it didn't sound like he thought he had much of a choice."

In a way, it reminded me of that time—time! Oh shit!

I jerked up and reached across the floor for Jake's pants. I grabbed them and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. I checked the time.

I turned to look at Jake.

"Who fires the boss if the boss is late?"


	12. Cadence

**A/n: **Once again, I apologize for the wait. Sigh. Thank you all for the reviews last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one. I know things are going along slowly, but next chapter is a big one (I PROMISE) so bear with me. I refuse to rush this story though. Anyway, thanks for reading! It means a lot :) (BTW-- my source for all the information on Astrology came directly from Astrology . com. Swear I didn't make one word of it up!)

* * *

**"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves." -- William Shakespeare**

**"People in love get fast and foolish, people in love get everything wrong. People in love get scared and stupid. People in love get everything wrong. But at least they're not lonely." -- The Feeling, "Never Be Lonely"**

**EMILY'S POV:**

Distance.

I can handle distance as in being miles apart from someone. I can handle it when it refers to running yards upon yards.

What I can't handle is the distance in his eyes.

When I woke up this morning and I looked at him he didn't look the same. There was a certain feeling in his eyes that I can't decipher, a certain hue that wasn't ordinarily there. He didn't smile. He didn't laugh. He kissed me before we separated for work, but I think he only did that because it was a reflex.

I didn't ask.

Not because I didn't want to know, because God knows I do. Not because I didn't care, because God knows I do.

But because I knew, if I did, whatever strength inside of him that was keeping the problem from taking over would unravel and that is the last thing he wants.

My mind obsesses over it.

His unhappiness bothers me much more than menstrual cramps, much more than a paper cut between two fingers, much more than anything else unpleasant on this planet. It's a constant gnawing at my heart because it's the knowledge that being with me doesn't make everything okay, and I can't do anything about that. It's the knowledge that something has happened that I don't know about that has changed him so quickly in such a short amount of time.

It's the knowledge that the only difference between New Zealand and Malibu is Caitlyn.

I parked my car outside of the dance studio and sat there for ten minutes. I didn't even fear my dance instructor's reaction to my week-long absence as much as Caitlyn, because she had the power to take away the only thing I had. What would I do if I didn't have him again? I spent so long waiting for him. I spent so long loving him without so much as a friendly word or smile to repay me. I spent so many nights crying because he had a new girlfriend. I knew it was pathetic, but I've always been persistent, and I told myself that if I didn't have him, I would never be happy. And by telling myself that, I made it so. And I suffered day after day, week after week, month after month, and the only thing that would alleviate the pain was dancing, so I fell into that more than ever, and it became sort of like a best friend. I had friends, but sometimes I felt like they were only there to keep my mind off him. I was in a permanent state of lovesickness for Cole and I have been since age 5. I loved him, and so I thought about him more than anything else and I honestly loved every single part of him, even the parts that I didn't know existed that I discovered at random moments. He didn't always make the right decisions and he didn't always say the right thing. But I loved him for who he was, not what he did or said, and it's very important to acknowledge the difference. When I look at him, I see everything he is and everything he will be, and everything he has the potential to become.

I see happiness. If I never would have gone to Virginia, if I never would have kissed him behind that island, if I never would have comforted him that day in the backyard, things might be okay now. He would be him. He'd probably be with Caitlyn, or maybe not. But he would be okay. I would be too. I'd never be fully happy, because I decided that that would be the way it would go, but I would eventually learn to partially accept that we weren't meant to be together, that maybe he was better suited with someone else.

But not now. It'd gone too far now. I wasn't even sure if I was really real beyond him and dancing. I don't know if I could handle him leaving me for Caitlyn at this point. Of course I wouldn't kill myself, but I might run. I don't know where to, but I wouldn't be able to stay in this town where we grew up. I wouldn't be able to go to family gatherings in see him. I wouldn't be able to go to Miley and Jake's house for Christmas and see him there with a wife that isn't me, with children that aren't ours. That I could never learn to no, no matter how strong I became.

The pain of that mental image pushed the thoughts out of my head. He proposed to me. He wanted to marry me. When he touched me, he touched me like he loved me. He told me he did. Why would he leave me for her? Maybe it's just a coincidence that he started acting weird right when she showed up. Maybe he's just not feeling well. That's possible. At least, I have to let myself believe it is.

But what if he leaves and it's because of me? Because I can't have sex with him yet. Because he's a guy and it's been four years?

Familiar guilt settled upon me like a too heavy blanket. No matter what he said, I was selfish. He could repeat that he didn't mind waiting a million times and I still wouldn't believe it, because it was not fair to him.

But I could change that.

Just the thought frightened me enough to raise my heart rate, but it wasn't as scary as it had been before the trip to New Zealand. He really did think I was beautiful and that should be enough. However, sex was always a big deal to me. Most people are nonchalant about it and say it's no big deal; it's just something humans were born with instincts to do.

And I wish I thought that too. It just seemed like such a giant step to me, a step that would change everything. I was afraid I would feel different afterwards. I was afraid that the moment I lost my virginity I might also lose me. It's just the thought of someone literally being inside of your body…why don't people see how big of a deal that is? You can't get more intimate than that. It's like you're actually morphing into one person. I wasn't afraid to be one person with Cole, because we were already like one person. I wasn't afraid it would hurt, because I know he knows what he's doing. I'm not scared of the idea because I'm not physically attracted to him, because I definitely am. I'm scared because I don't want him to see me and realize I'm not as beautiful as he thought. I don't want to feel different. I don't want this to change our relationship. I don't want to lose him by giving him what he wants.

What I needed was to talk to him about all of this. I needed to explain all of this to him, he needed to know and understand. But it was so hard to get the words out from under that heavy blanket.

I lifted my forehead off the steering wheel and I almost had a heart attack. Missing for a week and tardy today. I'm so getting kicked out.

I threw open the door and grabbed my bag. I slammed the door shut and locked the doors as I ran up the steps. I punched in my birthday and the door swung open, admitting me in the freezing, dim building. I ran down the hallways and into the dressing room. I tore my tennis shoes off as I hopped over to the bench. I sat down and finished pulling them off. I yanked my bag open and pulled my ballet shoes out, beginning the daunting task of putting them on.

"She's not here today."

I jumped and glanced up. A girl I had never seen in my life was leaning against the sinks. She had the mandatory practice outfit on—leotard, tights, ballet shoes, hair in a bun—and earphones in her ears. She grabbed her iPod off the side of the sink and paused her music. She pulled the earphones out and smiled at him. She set her hands on the edge of the sink and pushed herself into a standing position. She walked over and sat beside me, offering me her hand to shake. I grasped it.

"I'm Angie Thomaston." She smiled even wider. Her teeth were so white it was astonishing.

"I'm Emily Oken. The dance instructor isn't here today?" I asked nervously, clarifying before I completely let myself relax. She nodded. Her hair was redder than any hair I'd ever seen before, and she was very pretty. She had large, gray eyes that were outline with black eyeliner and a movie star mole right above her lip. She also had a small nose ring, which partially shocked me because the instructor hardly ever let us wear jewelry of any kind, especially not nose rings. But what shocked me more than anything was how curvy she was. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't like all the other girls who were thin from the top of their heads to their toes. And it was so rare to see that in a ballerina. I had felt bad because my body wasn't the way I always thought it had to be to be a ballerina—perfectly long and straight, almost like a pole, but very flexible—but here was this girl, who was also a ballerina, but didn't look anything like they always said you had to. I envied her confidence.

Angie was still grinning like she had never been unhappy in her entire life. "Yeah, her sister had a baby so she's with her at the hospital. So you can totally chillax. You must be the girl that's been gone for a week. I'm a new dancer. I took Toni's spot." She explained.

Toni left a month ago because she was pregnant.

"That's great! To both things. I just wish you could have been here when we had our former instructor. She was fantastic. People need to stop popping out children." I laughed. My back unclenched and I pulled my ballet shoe off and placed it back in my bag. Something about Angie was extremely magnetic. She was very charismatic and her happiness and confidence radiated onto me.

Angie laughed loudly. "I completely agree with you! The first thing that lady told me was that I needed to lose my butt or it would hold me back."

Of course.

"What'd you say?" I asked.

She grinned even wider. "I told her it's never held me back in my life before, and it wasn't about to start now. And then I proceeded to dance circles around her—literally. She hasn't said a word to me about it since."

I laughed along with her this time, feeling a bit like a new child exposed to a brand new world. Maybe things didn't have to be the way the instructor always said. Maybe it's possible for all of us to have different body types but still be able to dance beautifully. It gave me hope and made me feel like, for once; maybe it was okay to be me. Maybe I was good enough for this just the way I was.

"Well, I'm glad you put her in her place. God knows she needed it. She's been a freaking nightmare. Literally." I shuddered. Angie had a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I like you, Emily. You're the only one in this entire building who isn't stuck up that woman's rear. Everyone else sucks up to her and stares at me like I'm a freak because the nose ring and my boobs. You're refreshing."

I smiled. "Thanks, I could say the same for you. The girls are nice, but they aren't very…"

"Real?" She supplied.

"Yeah. Don't worry about them, though. Everyone here is really obsessed with bodies." But sitting here beside Angie, I couldn't even remember exactly why that was.

"Oh don't worry; I don't let them get to me. They can call me fat all they want, but at the end of the day I'm the one picking up more men."

She glanced at my hands.

"Speaking of men…is that an engagement ring I spy?"

I blushed and once again my thoughts were back on Cole. I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah."

She motioned for my hand and I gave it to her. She inspected the ring.

"Oh my sweet Lord in Heaven, who are you marrying? Tiger Woods?" She gave me my hand back.

"Nah, Tiger and I divorced last year. It didn't last very long…after the wedding I found him in bed with all the bridesmaids." I joked. "I'm marrying Cole Ryan."

She appeared thoughtful. "I have heard that name before, but I can't put a finger on him. Help?"

I smiled and straightened my ring. "Jake Ryan's son."

She snapped. "Yes! That's right. How'd you manage that, girl? Is it a romantic story? I love those. Did he see you in the park, become captivated by your beauty, and run across it and demand to buy you an ice cream?!" She suggested enthusiastically.

In my head, I saw a cheesy scene in which he ran slow motion toward me and I couldn't help but burst out in laughter. "No, no, nothing like that. We've known each other since we were born. We grew up together and, well, hit it off I suppose." I explained.

She smiled. "That's so cute. How in the world did you grow up with Jake Ryan's family though?"

Everyone is always so surprised to hear I know their family.

"My dad and Miley are best friends and have been for many years." I clarified.

"Pardon my language, but that's pretty freaking awesome!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Her language? She should hear the way Cole and I talk…

"Yeah I guess. They're just family to me though." The best part about knowing them was knowing Cole.

"You're interesting." She said. She stared at me with her gray eyes and I wasn't sure how to respond that.

"Thanks, I guess." I said.

She laughed, "No, it's a good thing. Are you a Virgo?"

Random. "No, I'm a Pisces." I laughed.

"You seem like you'd be a Virgo. What's Cole?" She asked.

"Leo."

She grinned. "Interesting match. Want to hear your compatibility? I'm big on astrology."

"Sure!" I said excitedly. Anything involving Cole and I together made me happy.

She pulled her legs under her and pulled her bun out. Her red hair was very short and only went to her jaw line. She used her fingers to brush through it and I couldn't imagine how the hair didn't get caught with all the rings on her fingers.

"The most important thing about Leo and Pisces is that you each bring new views to each other. Leos are naturally assertive and strong while Pisces are generally more reserved and quiet. But you two balance each other out nicely, am I right? You're both totally dreamers though, which is something that's good about both Leo and Pisces. Because Leos are natural leaders, they are usually the dominant in the relationship. Pisces tend to give themselves totally and completely over to their romantic partners and the kind heart of a Pisces allows them to know Leo in a way many other signs don't. Leo alone can be considered cocky and egocentric, and Pisces alone can be very shy, but together they make each other very balanced. Leo is ruled by the Sun and Pisces is ruled by Neptune, which basically means that Leo can help Pisces turn their dreams into reality, and Pisces can help Leo by inspiring them to channel their sometimes abrupt and selfish actions into a creative outlet. Pisces women are often times muses for artists and inspire creative things. However, there can be problems when these two join too. Leo is a Fire sign and Pisces a Water sign. Pisces can be too emotional and Leo can be too passionate, each resulting in the other feeling emotionally worn out. Balance is the key here. Pisces find it impossible to be the boss and feel their best when they are helping others. Leo, on the other hand, can be high maintenance, which usually is good for Pisces, but could cause issues in the relationship if there isn't communication." She finished with her eyes shining with excitement.

I wasn't sure what to say. "That's pretty damn cool." I finally settled with.

And a little unsettling. How could that be so accurate? I always assumed Astrology was bullshit, but that was just…weird.

"What about Leo and, say, a Scorpio?" I asked quickly. Caitlyn was a Scorpio.

Angie flinched. "Gross! That's a Leo's worst possible match. They'll both try to lead, for one. For two, Leo is ruled by the Sun which radiates warmth and light, and Scorpio is ruled by Mars and Pluto, which are all about war and battle. And they're both way too opinionated. Scorpio would never back down in a fight because they'd totally think that meant they were weak, and that's a Scorpio's worst fear. Overall trainwreck, if I'm being honest. Does Cole have an ex who is a Scorpio?"

Maybe there is truth to this Astrology stuff. I'm starting to like it.

"Yeah." I admitted.

She smiled and patted my shoulder. "Well, don't worry. Totally won't work out according to the stars."

I hope the stars are correct.

Angie and I talked until the day was over. She was really fun to be around and I was almost positive we were going to be great friends.

Once dance let out, all the other girls filed into the changing room. Some flitted into the showers and some went to their lockers, but three walked over to me.

I smiled, "Hi guys!"

The smile quickly disappeared when they glared.

"We don't appreciate what your boyfriend did, Emily. The instructor criticizes us too, but we don't get our boyfriends to threaten her and her cat's life. I think that's ridiculous. You aren't too good to get criticized. I'll have you know the instructor feels very bad for what she said and she's scared for her life and job because of him."

The other two nodded and I simply stared.

"Excuse me?" I finally asked. What are they talking about?

"Don't play dumb, Emily. It doesn't work." They walked off and I sat there, staring after them in confusion. I looked at Angie.

"If I cussed, I'd have a lot to say right now. But seeing as I don't, I'm just going to glare at them venomously." She announced.

And true to her word, she glared harshly at them. They avoided her eyes as if they were scared of her.

"I honestly don't know what they're talking about," I admitted to her, praying she believed me and that she could explain it to me.

"I don't either, Emily. I wouldn't worry about it." She comforted.

Sharon sat down on my other side.

"They don't know you guys were out of the country. Here." She handed me a copy of _Star _magazine, opened to a page with a picture of me and Cole on it. What the hell?

I read the entire article and felt something stirring inside of me.

He didn't tell me that he did that. He didn't tell me he talked to her. He admitted he knew what she did, but I just assumed he knew that because he had deduced it from my behavior. And it bothered me.

"I didn't know," I whispered to Sharon. "But he didn't say all that. He wouldn't. She's just making it up."

Sharon shrugged. "I'm neutral. But watch out tomorrow. You're most definitely not her favorite person. I think she's going to kick you out."

I felt like everything inside of me stopped working, lungs and heart included.

"What? Why? Because Cole talked to her?" I breathed incredulously.

"She'll probably say it's because you were missing for a week and therefore left behind. But she's pissed off." Sharon stood up.

"We all need to double date again soon! I'll call you later and we can work something out."

I stared forward, my mind and body automatically shutting down as it did when unpleasant things shocked me.

I nodded numbly and she walked away.

I didn't want to be kicked out. I wanted to dance; I wanted to do it the rest of my life. I wanted to be somebody on that stage, so maybe the nobody I was in real life would be okay. I existed for others in my personal life, but when I was dancing, I existed for myself. I was selfish and it was okay, because I was entertaining and making art. For once, I didn't have to be nice. I wanted to make up for myself with my dancing. And now I couldn't do that.

Angie slung an arm over my shoulder as if we'd known each other our entire life.

"Eh, she won't kick you out. She secretly thinks you're the best." Angie squeezed my shoulders and stood up. I tore my gaze away from the wall and glanced at her as she gathered her stuff.

"Why do you think that?" I asked. She couldn't think that. She thought I was scum.

Angie stopped and looked back at me, a kind smile on her face.

"Because the people we hate the most are the ones we're threatened by."

She swung the bag onto her shoulder and left the room, and I couldn't help but think about Caitlyn and agree that perhaps Angie was right.

I gathered my stuff and left a few minutes after Angie did. I went out the front door this time instead of the back, mostly because all the other girls were going out the back and I didn't want to feel their anger. Something inside of me wasn't right and I felt strange and off. I couldn't place what was wrong. It wasn't until my phone rang that I realized it.

I was angry at Cole.

The feeling was so alien to me. We'd only gotten in one real fight in all the years we've been together, and that was in our junior year of high school over something stupid. But I felt right now that I really could scream at him. Why did he have to go and mettle with all this? Why'd he have to go talk to her? He just made everything worse. Now I'm going to get kicked out. Now I'm going to be hated even more. Why couldn't he just let it be?

I ignored his call because I couldn't yell at him. It would break my heart to yell at him. I needed to calm down and get a grip of myself before I talked to him.

He sent me a text a few seconds after the missed call.

**My grandmother wants us to meet at her house ASAP. **

I didn't particularly like Alana and I didn't want to go there, but I didn't feel like I had much of a choice.

I exited the building and the sunshine was so warm I stopped in my tracks to feel it. I loved the sunshine. It was a perfect beach day.

"Emily?"

I turned around and everything seemed to pause.

My mother hesitantly took a step forward. She wrung her hands together nervously. She was wearing a t-shirt and I could see each of her ribs through it.

What bothered me the most about her was that a part of me was jealous of how terribly she'd destroyed her body. And it bothered me that I was jealous of that. I wanted the ability to change my body, to morph it that extremely. But at the same time I didn't want to end up like her. I wasn't sure what I felt for her anymore. After I screamed at her, I felt a little bad for it. It's just so hard to forgive her for all the years. She hurt me a lot more than I'd ever admit.

"I know you said you never wanted to see me again," she whispered. Her hands were shaking and she looked so nervous that I was feeling nauseous on her behalf, "but I just wanted to give you something."

Her shaking hand extended and she placed a heavy envelope in my palm. I grasped my fingers around the edge of it and accepted it. I felt the same feeling of nervousness as her as I pried my finger under the flap. She couldn't give me back the years, but how I wished that she could.

I opened the envelope.

I pulled out the contents.

Nineteen birthday cards.

And suddenly my hands were shaking too, and the sun felt a lot hotter than it had before. I grasped the first on the top of the stack. And opened it.

_Happy first birthday, Emily! I love you. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to hear you say your first word or watch you take your first steps, but once I work things out, I'll be there. It gives you time to perfect it. I love you so much. I really do. I'm so sorry. I'm your mother no matter where I am, and that is what keeps me going. _

My heart hurt. Pressure built in the back of my throat and my eyes burned. I opened the next in the stack.

_I love you. I'll be there as soon as I can. Can you ride a tricycle yet? When I come home, we will be able to go to the park and ride like me and my mother used to do. I love you. _

I could feel her eyes on me and I knew she was crying. I pulled one from the middle of the stack.

_Happy thirteenth birthday. You are beautiful. Don't ever let anyone tell you different. Your grandmother sent me a picture of you. Don't tell your dad. You are the most gorgeous person I've ever seen in my entire life. I love you. I promise I'm coming soon. I just have to clean myself up. _

I pushed the cards back in the envelope. The burning in my eyes increased until they began to water. I took a deep breath. Why hadn't she ever sent these to me? Why hadn't she ever called me and told me these things? Maybe all I needed growing up was to hear my mother say she loved me, and that I was beautiful. Maybe if I had had that growing up I would feel better now.

"Why didn't you send them?" I finally asked.

She wiped her eyes and her shoulders seemed to sag as if the weight of the world had settled on them.

"Because I lied in every single one. I wasn't coming home soon."

And she was crying harder than I had ever seen anyone cry in my entire life. Her body folded into itself and her shoulders shook violently and it was like she couldn't breathe. I was glued to the ground, with that hot, hot sun burning my scalp uncomfortably, and my warm tears making my face even hotter. The pain in my heart increased and I found it almost impossible that my mother's pain made me hurt, because she was practically a stranger.

I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her like she should have wrapped her arms around me. I set a hand on her head and let her cry on my shoulder like she should have done for me when I was twelve and my best friend decided I wasn't cool enough. I told her it was okay, just like she should have told me when I was fourteen and Cole was dating my best friend instead of me.

"You are my beautiful daughter and I have always loved you." She sobbed into my shoulder. The pain in my heart lessened substantially.

Maybe that was all I had really needed all along.

My mother.

* * *

**COLE'S POV:**

There are good things in life, like sex and food and sex with whipped cream and chocolate.

And there are bad things in life, like annoying ass grandmothers who bitch at you nonstop for not putting on sunscreen every damn time you leave the fucking house.

Needless to say, today I was enduring the bad and not the good. Fuck my life. My day starts out fucking terrible with that stupid Caitlyn on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about that dream. I even painted it now. And it bothered me so much I could hardly focus on anything today. I didn't want to cheat on Emily, but I was so afraid I would. I was afraid I was falling out of love with her and in love with Caitlyn. Why else would it be so hard to get that dream out of my mind?

"Are you here yet?" My grandmother complained. Unfortunately, I was driving up the driveway. But I would have given all the money left over from New Zealand to disappear and suddenly be somewhere completely different.

"Yes, Grandmother. I'm pulling in." I sighed into the phone. She hung up and I did the same.

I put the car in park behind my mother's and turned it off. I set the keys in my lap and considered leaving. But it was a little too late for that, unfortunately. Damn.

I climbed out of my car and Emily pulled in. I shut the door and leaned against my car, waiting for her. She parked and turned her car off and climbed out. She was still in her dance stuff but her hair was down. It seemed as if it'd gotten even longer since yesterday. It went a little past her elbows now. I loved the curls. I never understood why some guys hated curly hair.

I smiled at her. Of course I still loved her. My stomach still jumped at the sight of her and that reassured me. Fuck Caitlyn. I'm just obsessed with the dream because it was weird.

I stood up from the car.

She walked right past me.

My stomach slowly sank to my toes, like a rock disappearing into mud.

"Emily?" I asked. She stopped walking but didn't turn around. I hesitantly walked up to her. I touched her arm.

She turned around and she looked _mad._

Shit. Fuck. Had my mother told her what I said today? I didn't mean that. I was just shaken up because of the way my mind was obsessing over that. I wouldn't cheat on Emily. I wouldn't.

Right?

"Emily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." I begged. Her eyebrows lowered a bit and her nose scrunched up in confusion.

"What?" She asked.

I faltered.

"Why are you mad at me?" I asked.

She turned away from me.

"I don't know if I am. I just…Cole, why did you talk to her? Did you not think I could handle it myself? Now everyone hates me, and she's going to kick me out."

Oh. This was about that bitch. She was going to kick Emily out of dance because of what I said?

My stomach fell even further down, so it was pressed against my toenails.

"Emily…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen…I just heard the way she treated you, and it hurt you so much, and I just—"

She interrupted me.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Her voice was soft and I could hear how difficult it was for her to keep from losing her temper.

She entered the house and I followed her, feeling more and more like shit with every step I took. I didn't want to fight with her. I didn't want us to be on bad terms. I just wanted to hold her and I wanted things to go back to the way they were before I had that dream. I wanted to not want to take drugs. I wanted to be everything I should be.

"C!!" Adeline called happily. She and Odette were sitting with my grandfather putting together a puzzle. Alana was standing stiffly by the fireplace, and my mother was sitting in the middle of the beige couch with her elbow resting on her knee, her chin resting in her upturned hand, with her other hand holding a bag of frozen peas to her head.

Adeline stood up and ran over to me. She hugged me tightly and I couldn't help but smile. It was hard to be unhappy with the twins around.

"Mommy is turning into a unicorn!" She exclaimed happily. I glanced at my mother in confusion. She wordlessly lifted the bag of frozen peas off her head to revel a large bump forming above her forehead, right where a unicorn's horn would be. I stifled a laugh.

"She's not turning into a unicorn, dumb freaking horse!" Odette yelled.

My grandmother made a choking sound.

"Odette! We do NOT use that kind of language in the house!"

Odette looked confused. "We do in _my _house."

My grandmother turned to glare at my mother. "Is this the kind of language you allow my son's daughter to use?"

My mom stared at my grandmother for a full minute before she replied. And when she did, it sounded very much like she wanted to throw something at her face.

"Jake and I teach _our _daughter that she is free to express herself in her own home." She snapped. They glared at each other.

I turned around and Emily was standing awkwardly at the door, looking thoroughly miserable. I walked over to her and took her hand. She pulled back a little, like she was going to yank it away, but I tightened my grip a little.

"I love you. I'm sorry. We can talk about it later, but let's not let it make us both miserable right now." I whispered.

She looked at me like she was being tortured. "I know you did it because you love me. I don't even know why I'm so mad. I just think I need space right now." She whispered back.

It hurt.

I forced myself to nod and I dropped her soft hand and moved away from her. She sat in a chair by the door and I sat beside Odette on the floor.

"I think I got Mommy in trouble. I wasn't supposed to say freaking horse around grandma." Odette whispered guiltily to me and my grandfather. We locked eyes and fought to keep from laughing. I wrapped my arm around Odette.

"It's okay, Odette. Mommy doesn't care what grandma says to her. They fight all the time." I assured her.

I looked up at my mom.

"So exactly what did you do to your head?" Usually the almost-five-year-olds are the ones with knots on their heads, not the mothers.

She hesitated. "Uh…I hit it on my car."

I laughed. "Wow, Mom. Smooth."

She glared. "Don't make fun of my pain."

Alana muttered something under her breath.

"What was that, Alana?" My mom asked, glaring at her mother-in-law.

Alana smiled innocently. "Nothing. I just think you need to be more careful around cars and carpet."

My mom blushed and my grandmother grimaced and I was confused.

I changed the subject. "So why are we here, Grandma?"

She tapped her fingers on the mantle and checked her watch. "I'll let you know once my son arrives."

My mom snapped.

"Jake is filming, Alana. He can't come. We've been through this."

I glanced around. I was always searching for Emily when she wasn't beside me. Adeline was sitting on her lap and they were talking quietly about something. She met my eye and we stared at each other for what must have been thirty seconds before we glanced away.

"THIS STUPID PIECE WON'T FIT! MOMMY! IT WON'T FIT! AND IT'S THE RIGHT FREAKING ONE!" Odette screamed in frustration, slamming a puzzle piece at the puzzle, trying to get it to fit.

Alana twitched. "No. Ill. Language. In. My. HOUSE!" She freaked out.

"Don't yell at my baby," Mom snapped. She stood up from the couch and walked over. She sat down between me and Odette. She had a weird looking bruise on her neck too, I wonder how hard sh—oh God. Ew. EW. THAT IS NOT A BRUISE. THAT IS A…EW! I HATE MY LIFE SO MUCH. UGH.

I gagged.

She helped Odette get the puzzle piece to fit and then turned to me.

"What are you gagging about?" Her blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

I narrowed mine too. "You two are like thirty-six. Seriously?"

She stood up. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She lied.

She sat back on the couch and placed the frozen peas on her head.

At that moment, my dad burst into the house hysterically. He was shirtless and looked like someone had been killed.

"WHAT HAPPEN—Dad?" He glanced at his dad in confusion. Then he glanced at his mother. He glared. "You are a very evil woman. That was so low."

He shut the door after him.

"What happened?" My grandfather asked. "And where is your shirt?"

My dad glared at my grandmother more. "I was in the middle of filming a scene on the beach when my director got a call from dear Mom. Apparently you had a stroke and I had to come pick her up and take her to the hospital, where you were in the ICU."

She wasn't fazed. "Well, it worked, didn't it? You're here." She turned to my Mom. "Told you I could get him here."

"You're going to feel pretty bad if I actually do have a stroke now, Alana." My grandfather said.

She snorted. "You won't have a stroke."

Dad walked over and sat next to Mom and he gently pulled the frozen peas off her head and inspected the sprouting unicorn horn.

"It's swelling," He frowned.

She shrugged and put the bag back on it.

"Sorry." He whispered.

Sorry…? Why would he be apologizing that she hit her head on the car door? He wouldn't hit her, so it couldn't be that.

I decided I most likely didn't want to know.

My dad glanced across the room.

"What's your problem?" He asked Emily. She jumped and looked at him and shrugged.

"What'd Cole do now?" He pressed. He turned to glance at me. "Hi, by the way. Always nice to see you."

"Nothing." She muttered.

I glared at him. "Why do you automatically assume I did something wrong?"

He shrugged apologetically. Adeline climbed off Emily's lap and ran for our dad. She hugged him.

"Now that we're all here, can we get down to business?" I begged.

"Daddy has makeup on his back!" Adeline screamed. She started laughing. What the fuck. Honestly? I just don't understand why I have such a strange family. What did I ever do to deserve this?

"Makeup on your back?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I had to film a shirtless scene and…I…hurt…it, so they had to, uh, cover…it…with makeup." He turned to glare at his mother. "I would have grabbed a _shirt _if someone didn't make me think my father was dying."

"Well, maybe if you and Miley learned to be more careful around _cars _you wouldn't have to worry about it in the first place." She shot back.

How do you even scratch your back on a car? What the hell.

"Mom, did you redecorate again?" Dad asked suddenly, looking around the living room. My grandmother smiled her first honest smile since I arrived.

"Yes, I did! I'm so proud of you for noticing! Don't you love the subtle but elegant Victorian theme?"

He walked across the room to this black leather ottoman. It was long and low to the ground. He lay back on it and sighed happily.

"Yes, but I especially love this thing. It's very comfortable. It's firm like a desk, but soft like a bed." He looked at her curiously. "Where'd you buy it? I want one for my office."

He didn't give her a chance to reply. He motioned my mom over there. She walked over and he patted the space beside him.

"What do you think?" He asked, an oddly mischievous look on his face.

She gave him an almost scolding look and he smirked.

"It's very nice." She said tightly. She started to stand up but he grabbed her hand.

"Wait, I think you should lay on it with me before I buy one, just to make sure." He was smirking so widely I was surprised his face didn't break apart. She smacked his arm and stood up. She gave him a warning glance.

"Don't try me," She warned.

"You should buy one, Jake. God knows it'd save you and Miley some pain." She mumbled the last part.

"What was that?" Jake asked.

"Nothing." She smiled.

They don't make any sense. But I honestly don't care at this point.

I sighed. "Can we PLEASE get this over with?" I begged.

"I agree with dumb head! I want to go home already!" Odette whined.

I felt my mom's eyes on me and I turned. She was looking at me and Emily strangely. Of course she noticed we weren't sitting together. Psycho woman.

"Okay, okay. Cole, Emily…Jim and I want to pay for your honeymoon." My grandmother announced.

My mom protested immediately. "You don't need to do that, Alana. Jake and I can pay for it along with the wedding."

Alana smiled tightly. "But I _want _to, Miley dear."

"Umm…thanks, Grandma!" I said. We had to come all the way over here for that? She could have just called me. Emily and I hadn't even talked about a honeymoon. I glanced at her.

"Thanks so much, Alana. That's really nice." She smiled at my grandmother.

"Where are you two going?" She pressed. Emily and I locked eyes.

"Um…we haven't actually thought about it yet." I replied.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you know when the wedding will be? What are the colors going to be?"

What the fuck? Weddings have COLORS?

"We're not sure yet." Emily replied.

My grandmother blinked.

"What _are _you sure of?" She asked sarcastically.

"That I'll be the groom. And Emily will be the bride." I answered. I glanced at Emily and a small smile forced itself on her face. It made me feel better.

My grandmother didn't move for a moment.

"Right…" She stood up. "Well, perhaps you two should begin…planning this?" She talked to us like we were stupid.

She was starting to piss me off.

"We do have the wedding colors picked, though!" I exclaimed.

She smiled. "What are they?!"

I bit back an evil smile. "Black and green."

Her eyes widened and she looked like she was going to pass out. She settled a hand over her mouth and turned around, walking slowly out of the room.

My dad bumped fists with me. "Fantastic! Highlight of my day!" He paused. "No, actually, it wasn't. But it was a good part!"

I stood up. "I'm leaving. But when she comes back, tell her Emily's dress is going to be black with green lace and glitter. That'll get her."

"NO!" Adeline screamed. She grabbed my hand and frowned at me. "Please don't leave, C. I love you." Her green eyes filled with tears.

My heart broke.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Adeline! But I have to go now. I love you too. Give me a kiss." I leaned down and she sniffed. She kissed my cheek and sniffed again.

"Okay." She whispered in a small voice.

Odette hugged me too.

"Bye dumb head. See ya later!" She said happily.

"Bye, girls!" I hugged my parents and grandfather and stood awkwardly in front of Emily.

"You coming?" I asked. She nodded and told everyone bye. She followed me outside.

She started walking to her car but I stopped her. I took her hand again.

"Come with me." I said. She hesitated but nodded.

I walked with her down the road. I glanced at her and she smiled when she saw where we were headed.

When we walked through the gate to the playground, she made a beeline for the swings. She took the purple swing, the one she always used when we were little, and I sat in the green one beside her. She kicked her shoes off and dug her toes in the sand and she pushed herself back. I watched her swing for a few moments. She came to a stop beside me.

She held onto the ropes and stared at her toes in the sand.

"I love you more than everything." She muttered. Her words healed all the pain inside of me.

"I love you more than everything too."

She turned her swing sideways and I turned mine to the side too. The ropes twisted together. She kissed me gently and then let her swing snap back into the right position.

"I'm just scared about getting kicked out. It's not your fault. I just took it out on you." She said.

I swung slowly while I thought.

"I really am sorry, Emily. I didn't want to make things worse. I wanted to fix things. I don't like the way she talks to you. You don't deserve that."

She shrugged. "What is wrong with you?" She asked.

I looked into her eyes and they were full to the brim with chocolate concern. I thought I was hiding it well. I guess not.

"I had a weird nightmare." I admitted. "I can't stop thinking about it."

She began swinging again.

"Was Caitlyn in it?" She swung higher and higher until all I could feel was the wind and all I could hear was the creaking off the swingset.

"Yes." I admitted.

She dug her feet into the sand and stopped swinging. She looked at me. She looked so innocent with her hair windblown and tousled from the wind and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were so pure, so honest, so beautiful.

"Was it a sex dream?"

I laughed out loud and suddenly I loved her more than I had before. I reached over and grabbed the robes of her swing and pulled her to me, pressing my lips firmly against hers.

I pulled back and her eyes seemed to be full of stars.

"No, it wasn't a sex dream."

She smiled and nodded. She started swinging slowly again. She swung faster before she asked her next question, as if the speed would enable her to outrun my answer if it was the one that would hurt her.

"Did you pick her over me in the dream?" She called. I listened to the creaking of the swingset and the soft sound her feet made when they hit the sand.

"Yes." I admitted.

She stopped pumping her legs and her swing eventually came to a stop.

I grabbed the ropes again. Her swing smacked against mine and our knees collided. I wrapped my arms around the ropes on her swing so the ropes were at the crease between my forearm and upper arm and my hands were grasping them firmly. She met my eyes and she looked so vulnerable I wanted to cry.

"But that's why it was a nightmare, not a dream." I whispered. She smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss me. She kissed my upper lip slowly and I wanted to taste her more than I'd ever wanted anything else. Her eyes shut and my followed in suit. I didn't think. I didn't look. I just felt. I focused on her tongue, the sound of seagulls and the waves in the background, and the way our swings gently smacked together as the wind blew. I slid my arm down and touched her leg and she sighed against my lips.

I pulled back when I knew things were about to go further than she wanted them to. She stared at me with those beautiful eyes and I felt like I was becoming liquid. She stood up from the swings and grasped my hand. She pulled me with her and I followed her blindly, trusting her and knowing that I'd like wherever she took me, because she would be there.

She crawled into the plastic tunnel under the playground. I crawled in after her and it was so dark in there that I could barely make out the raspberry on her cheeks. She pulled me close and held me tighter than she'd ever held me before. She held me like she thought I was trying to go away.

"I want you in every single sense of the world. I want you forever. I want every part of you forever. I love your hands, I love the way you smile, and I love the way your nose creases when you laugh. I love the way you say my name and I love your blue eyes. I want you to make love to me because I want you inside of me. I want you as close to me as you can get and I want you to be one with me so you can never, ever leave me." She rushed out. Her words and the rushed and hot texture of them raised my blood pressure. I wanted nothing more than to take those words and pull her clothes off her body, but I loved her too much to do that.

"Right now? In this tunnel? In this playground? In broad daylight?" I asked. My lips seemed to be stuck to hers. I couldn't stop kissing her. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me.

"Yes. Right now. Please." She whispered. I ran my fingers through her hair and my heart was beating so fast I couldn't hear anything else.

"But are you sure?" I pressed.

She answered by kissing me and grabbing my belt.

Jesus, there is no doubt in my mind that you are THE MAN. I mean, holy shit. I could honestly marry you right now for all the good things you do for me. Especially this. Oh God, definitely this. Just know you are the best fucking person EVER. And you're my role model. One hundred percent.

She pulled my belt off me and I broke the kiss so I could slide the shorts off her. She was just in that damn leotard. That was gonna be hard to get off. She kissed me again and then pulled away.

"Will I feel different after this?" She asked. She was breathing heavily and she had a strong grip on my body.

"I don't know," I admitted. I kissed her jaw and listened to her heavy breathing.

"Did you after your first time?"

Did I what? What are we talking about?

"Umm," I tried to understand what she was asking. It finally clicked. "Oh! Not really but I guess it's different for everyone."

There was a pause. I went back to kissing her.

"I hope I do. I hope I feel different." She whispered, and it seemed like maybe she didn't even mean for me to hear it.

She pushed her hands up my shirt and pulled it over my head. I was in the process of pulling her leotard off her when I heard a very familiar little voice.

"I WANNA PLAY IN THE TUNNEL, MOMMY!"

FUCK.

No, please, no. NOT NOW, JESUS.

Emily sat up so quickly she slammed her head into the top of the tunnel.

"Fuck!" I swore.

Do not come to the tunnel, Adeline. Do not.

"NO! SWING ON THE SWING WITH ME!" Odette demanded.

"…Okay, I guess the swings sound fun." Adeline said. I listened to her walking away.

I exhaled in relief.

Why me. Why is it the one time when she finally decides we can have sex we get interrupted? I mean it's kind of our fault because this IS a public place…but still. Jesus…what did I do? Why are you mad at me? I mean…I thought things were cool between us. I guess not.

I sighed and miserably grabbed my shirt. I pulled it back on and Emily fixed her leotard.

A minute later, the dimming sunlight that had been lazily drifting into the tunnel was eclipsed.

"Mmhmm. You have no room to be talking, mister. A playground? Really?" My mother scolded.

I sighed.

Adeline ran over. She smiled in happiness.

"C!! You came to play at the playground, too?!"

My dad walked over and peered into the tunnel also.

"Haha, oh yes he did."

I glared.

Well.

Fuck.

I need some steak.


	13. Point

**"Oh, you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace. What you need is someone to take hold of you -- gently, with love, and hand your life back to you." -- Tennessee Williams**

"Would someone care to explain this to me?" My grandmother asked.

She was staring directly at her couch, where Emily and my mom were sitting beside each other, both holding ice to their heads and staring at the floor.

"Well, Mom hit her head on the car, as you already knew, and Emily hit hers at the playground…" I provided weakly. My dad was having a fucking seizure behind me. He couldn't stop laughing.

"Oh, I love this!" He clapped his hands together evilly. "This is great."

I didn't think it was so great. First they cockblock me, and then they made Emily slam her poor head into that tunnel. I don't find that funny at all. Then, to top it all off, when Emily and I walked back here to get our cars, my grandmother saw her head and completely bugged out and made her come inside and ice it. Screw my life.

My mother set her ice on her lap. "Alana, I think my head is okay. You've made me hold ice on it for a while. I think I can—"

Adeline interrupted my mom. She climbed onto her lap and grabbed the ice pack. She gently pressed it to our mother's head.

"Mommy, I don't want you to die. I'll hold it for you if your arm is tired." She smiled.

Even Grandma seemed to melt a bit. Mom wrapped her arms tightly around Adeline and kissed her head.

"You're such a sweet girl," She praised. Adeline grinned happily. "But I promise I won't die from a bump on the head."

"Fine, take the ice off. But you're keeping the ice on yours." My grandmother barked the last part at Emily. Emily's eyes widened in fright. I felt that same overbearing protectiveness erupt inside of me, and I crossed the room and sat beside her. I wrapped an arm around her and glared at my grandmother.

She wasn't fazed. "So, exactly what were you doing at the playground—which, may I remind you, is a place for _children _to play—that resulted in this unfortunate injury?"

Um.

Well.

You see, grandma.

We were about to fuck.

In the tunnel.

How I wish I could have said that.

"Hey Mom, don't judge them based on me and Miley. They could have been up to completely innocent things." Dad defended, his laugh-seizure dimming down to slight laugh-twitch every now and then.

Grandma offered him an (obviously sarcastic) naïve look. "But Jake, what do you mean? You and Miley injured yourself on cars."

Dad rolled his eyes. "Like anyone actually believed that. Raise your hand if you believed it."

Everyone looked around.

Adeline pushed her arm in the air, smiling. Odette grabbed her arm.

"Put your hand down, dummy," She hissed. Adeline slowly lowered her arm.

I glanced back at Emily. Her cheeks were still a deep raspberry and she hadn't said a word since Alana forced her on the couch. I touched her arm and she turned to look at me. Her deep eyes held oceans of emotions that I couldn't decipher.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded, an outline of a smile gracing her lips. A thought fluttered into my mind: Oh Emily. I didn't know if I meant that in exasperation, or in love, but my mind kept replaying those two words over and over again.

"I think you two better stay for dinner. I don't think Emily should be driving with that bump." Grandma called. She was in the small laundry room that was a few feet away from the living room. She came out a few moments later, holding a laundry basket full of clean clothes. She set the basket on the table and glared at it. "How I hate peasant work."

"Get a maid," Dad suggested. "I told Miley either we had to get a maid or we were just going to have to give up wearing clothing and eating off clean plates." He paused. "We got a maid."

Grandma glared. "I know. She was my maid before she ditched me for your house. Apparently you pay better."

I want a maid. Doing laundry makes me feel like a faggot.

"Emily and Cole, I think you two should stay here for dinner, just to make sure Emily's head is okay." Grandma repeated.

Fuck no! I'd rather eat at McDonald's!

"We have to go over to my daddy's house for dinner. He's already called me twice today to make sure we're coming." Emily said. HAHAHA, yeah right. We aren't going over there for dinner.

Wait.

Right?

RIGHT?!

Oh God.

Grandma frowned. "Oh. Okay."

And for a moment, a brief display of intense loneliness drifted over her face. Guilt wormed its way into my body.

"We'll stay for dinner, Alana." My mom said. My dad started choking on the cookie he was eating.

"What?!" He glanced at his mother's hurt face. "I mean….nothing would make me…happier."

Odette threw a puzzle piece across the room. "LOOK SOMEONE NEEDS TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS STUPID DUMB HORSE PUZZLE! I'M SICK OF TELLING IT WHAT PIECE SHOULD FIT! IT SHOULD KNOW ALREADY!"

* * *

"So, Em, how is dance going?" Oliver asked.

Stupid man. That is not the best thing to ask Emily when she's eating. And he swears he knows her better.

Just as I predicted, she set her fork down and a grimace colored her face.

"Fine, I guess."

"Doesn't look like it's going fine." Oliver pressed. She shrugged. She avoided his eyes and glanced around the small dining room. This room, pre-Claire, was used as a play area. Emily and I used to build forts with sheets and chairs in here. Then Claire moved in, and transformed it into what it was meant to be: a dining room. A large, crystal chandelier was installed that appeared to have tiny, diamond octagons hanging down from it. The room was painted a refreshing light orange and the room was designed around a painting by Monet. China included. I kind of missed this room the way it was in my childhood, but it was much easier to eat at a wooden dining table than under a queen sheet stretched over the side of one couch and a computer chair.

Emily attempted to appear nonchalant. She made a show of looking for a rubber band and then she pulled her long, dark hair back in a pony tail. The light from the crystal chandelier illuminated it in a way that made the faint, natural red highlights stand out against the deep chocolate.

"I'm fine." She repeated.

"Do you want to quit, Emily? Because that would be okay. No one is forcing you to continue dancing." Claire whispered soothingly.

Emily shoved her plate away and I could almost hear her counting in her head. I had a strong urge to just take her hand and pull her out of the room. What is wrong with these people? Obviously this topic upsets her. Fuck this.

"I don't want to quit. I just don't want to talk about it." She forced out.

Oliver glanced helplessly at me. "What's wrong with her?" He asked.

So now he's talking civil to me. Hmph.

I stared at him. "Well, it sounds like she doesn't want to talk about dance but you are dwelling on the topic anyway."

He glared. He took to fussing about her head.

"Em, I really think you should see a doctor. You might have a concussion."

And I thought _my_ mother was fussy. I went back to examining the chandelier's affects on Emily's hair. It was such a beautiful color. Actually, it was the same color as her father's. Except his did not look beautiful in the light like hers did. Sucks to be him.

"Dad! I barely hit my head! I don't even have a knot! You wouldn't have even noticed anything if Alana wouldn't have called you!"

I decided this might be a fantastic time to change the topic. Before Emily stabbed someone with a fork.

"So what are you guys going to name the baby?" I asked.

Claire suddenly looked sick also. She pushed her plate away and glared at Oliver, placing her hands protectively on her pregnant bulge, as if he was threatening the baby's existence.

Oliver smiled happily. "Bertha Francis!"

Emily and I didn't move for an entire thirty seconds. We stared at Oliver, waiting for him to burst out laughing and declare that was a joke. That's the grossest name I've ever heard in my entire life.

"Daddy…you're kidding, right?" Emily asked carefully.

Oliver blinked. "No. Why does everyone hate that name? I love the name Bertha! It's so elegant."

A stunned silence fell over the room again.

"Claire, are you really going to let him name my sister that?" Emily asked helplessly.

Claire glared at the table. "We made an agreement when I found out I was pregnant. We said that if it was a boy, I got to name it. And if it was a girl, he got to. And…it's a girl."

"No! Why would you do that? He named our dog One Who Looks Like Sugar Cookies for God's sake!"

Claire looked ashamed. "I know! But I honestly thought it would be a boy! We're naming her Olivia Sophia though. I am not letting him name our daughter _Bertha._" She shuddered.

Oliver flung a carrot at her. It smacked her neck. She obviously wanted to be the mature one by ignoring that, but I saw her right hand twitch toward her own carrots. She finally won her internal struggle and her hand retreated back to her stomach.

Oliver continued. "You have to! You promised! INDIAN PROMISER! LIAR!"

This would be a perfect time to leave. Where was Lila anyway? She still lived here. Oh well. Never question blessings.

"No way! That name is atrocious, Oliver!"

"WHAT KIND OF EXAMPLE ARE YOU SETTING FOR EMILY AND LILA IF YOU DON'T KEEP YOUR PROMISES?"

"I'm teaching them to protect their unborn baby from sure torture!"

They went about bickering and I glanced at Emily. She met my eyes and smiled gently.

She turned back and had the look of someone trying to force themselves to say something. When she finally got the six words out, they completely stopped everyone.

"I talked to my mother today." She whispered.

Oliver completely froze, his arm extended in the air. He let the handful of peas fall back on his plate.

She did? She didn't tell me that. Not that she had much time, but still.

He finally gathered his wits.

"Well…okay. What happened?" He finally asked.

Emily picked her fork back up and pushed the food around her plate.

"She gave me birthday cards."

Oliver was confused. He glanced at me and I shrugged. This food sucked. I'm almost positive Claire ordered it from that shitty, vegan health food restaurant down the road. Pregnant women.

"Birthday cards?"

She looked up and met her dad's eyes. "Nineteen of them. We're meeting for lunch next week."

And I have honestly never seen her so at peace in my entire life.

* * *

Later that night, once we were at the apartment, I knew I had to spill the beans.

"Hey Emily?" I asked. She lifted her head off my shoulder and I paused the movie.

"Hey Cole?"

"Michael is throwing us a party tomorrow night. He came by today and I told him about the engagement and he insisted." I kept my eyes on her face as she processed the news. I knew she'd insist that we go to be polite. But I didn't want her there. I didn't want to be there. Michael's parties are raves. And I don't know if I could continue to resist with it right under my nose.

"That's actually really nice of him. I always assumed he was a bastard, but I guess I was wrong." Emily smiled at me. I kept my eyes on her, trying to think of what I could say that would explain to her why this was so bad. She sat up a bit and slid her arms around my middle. She hugged me and rested her head against my chest.

"Why don't you want to go?" She asked.

"He _is _a bastard. His parties are raves." I explained. When Michael came by at work today, he left after I told him about the engagement. Then he returned thirty minutes later and handed me this list with food on it. He then proceeded to explain to me that he was throwing Emily and me a party in celebration and I needed to check off the best food to have there. I clearly asked him to limit the drugs and alcohol, and he just laughed. There's no way he would do that. His parties were legendary here for the big partiers.

Emily sat up all the way and her arms fell away from my body. She tucked a curl behind her ear and her dark eyes narrowed a bit as she lowered her eyebrows in concern.

"Like…a drug rave? Like with…what do they call it? The one that made that man think he could fly?"

"LSD?" I asked.

"Yeah. That one. Like that?" She seemed shocked. I told her I'd done drugs before, but she never asked which ones. Now I was beginning to understand that she thought I meant MJ.

"Yes. And ecstasy. And angel dust sometimes. Coke. And one time someone brought heroin and meth, but that was only once. Well, that I know of. It's been a while." I explained. Her eyebrows reversed their past action and rose this time.

"Have you done all that before?" Her voice was quiet and laced with concern and shock. Shame infiltrated every pore and I felt myself sag under the weight of it.

"Not all of it." I finally responded. The words were so heavy as they fell out of my mouth that I felt my lips stinging after they had already been pushed out.

"Which ones?" She pressed. How was it that Caitlyn knew exactly what drug I had used the most, but Emily didn't?

I turned the TV off. It was obvious we weren't going to continue that. I turned so I was facing her on the couch. I let my legs hang off the side of it. She scooted back into the gap between me and the couch and leaned against me. I wrapped my arms around her and felt better with this little gesture than the drugs had ever made me feel. I wanted her to understand that. I pushed my fingers through her fragrant hair.

"Ecstasy, LSD, and marijuana. Never any of the others. I promise." I was too much of a wimp to try meth or heroin. That shit destroys people big time.

She tipped her head up and met my eyes. I inspected her creamy eyelids, her dark, thick eyelashes, and her brown eyes that, at the moment, seemed to have a speck of every color in them.

"Have you since we got together?" She asked.

I could answer this without hesitation. "No. Not even once."

The phone started ringing and the sound startled me. I glanced toward my cellphone that was across the room. Emily sat up. She turned so she was sitting up with her legs on top of mine and extended forward and her back leaning against the back cushions of the couch. She leaned forward and gently set her hands on my face. Her skin felt so soft against mine. She guided my face to hers and stared at me again.

"Will you?" She asked.

I broke eye contact as I fumbled to answer that.

Her hands fell.

"Cole. Why don't you believe in yourself?"

I looked back at her.

"I didn't know there was something to believe in." I answered truthfully. She moved her legs and slid into my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a serious look.

"One day, you will be a famous artist. Everyone will pay out of their asses for your paintings. You will be the next Monet, or Leonardo Di Vinci. And you will do it without drugs." She whispered. She leaned forward and touched her lips to mine. I kissed her back until I felt so at peace that the truths inside of me were near the edge, threatening to make themselves known. I pulled back just before she knew everything she already didn't.

She refused to break eye contact. "Just give it time, C-dizzle. We're only nineteen. You need to believe that you have strength. You need to see all the potential you have."

The problem is that I don't. If we go to that party tomorrow night, I will bend and break under the temptation. For as long as I've had free will and freedom, I've chosen instant gratification. I've chosen the immoral road because it is easier. It's easy to be high. It's easy to escape yourself for hours. It's easier to feel intense, superficial pleasure and happiness for hours at a time than it is to spend years struggling for real, honest happiness.

But I came so close to it with Emily. And even though she would immediately dismiss the idea of going to the party if she knew I didn't want to, I knew she wanted to go. I knew she wanted to be polite and she wanted to be accepted by my friends. And I knew that I had to go for her, and I had to resist for her.

"I'll try. So you obviously want to go to the party tomorrow, right?"

She leaned against me and seemed completely calm. I wish I felt that calm.

"It's the polite thing to do. But if you don't want to, then of course—"

"No. We'll go. Just promise me two things."

She looked at me again. "What?"

"Promise me you won't leave me alone during it. And promise me you'll wear jeans and not a skirt."

I didn't want some high creeper deciding he had the balls to mess with me by running his hand up her leg and copping a feel. Stupid idiotic jackasses.

She smiled. "Naturally. I promise. Now you promise me something."

I nodded.

"Promise me that tomorrow, when we come back from the party, I can have you." How can someone's voice be innocent but seductive at the same time?

"Baby, I'll promise that any second of any minute of any day in any week in any month of any year. What made you all of the sudden decide you were ready?"

The whole getting interrupted thing had really depressed me, but I was too afraid to ask her about what happened once we were finally alone. I didn't want her to feel pressured.

She shrugged and pulled at her shirt. "I just feel like I'm ready."

I stared at her. I really wanted to just take those words as the truth. I really wanted to. _Really. _But the way she was avoiding my eyes and picking at her clothing made it seem like I couldn't.

"Do you really?" I asked doubtfully.

She looked up, almost in shock. "_Yes._" She pronounced it clearly and slowly.

Mmhmm.

"Right. Do you think I don't know you?" I challenged.

She made a point of not breaking eye contact, as if she thought that would convince me of her honesty. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't ask you."

"That's a lie." I said immediately. She cocked an eyebrow, challenging me.

"You would do it for me." I clarified. And she didn't say anything after that because she knew I was right.

"I want to." She repeated. "What do I have to do to prove that to you?"

Well, there are quite a few things—NO. BAD BOY MIND FUELED BY TESTOSTERONE AND PENT UP SEXUAL ENERGY.

I concealed a smile. "Do a strip tease."

She gave me a confident look and slid off the couch. Whoa, I was just kidding, but this works too. It works well.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and slowly started pulling it up. Then she dropped it back down.

"There's your strip _tease_." She joked.

I glared. "You think you're incredibly clever, don't you, you tease?"

She stuck her tongue out. "I _know _I'm clever."

The phone went off again and she turned toward it. I took advantage of the moment lunged forward. She shrieked and I snaked my arms around her waist, pulling her down on my lap.

I pressed my lips to hers and she smiled underneath them.

She pulled back. "I love you."

I pushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed her again. "You know I love you right back."

"I do."

It almost sounded like a reason.

* * *

The next morning, I knew the day was going to suck from the moment I woke up.

Emily left early. I started my day off missing her and wishing I'd gotten to talk to her before she left for dance. Then, I about set the building on fire while I was trying to make something for breakfast.

By the time I made it to my car, I was running late and pissed. I slung my art stuff into my backseat with more force than necessary and relived my reckless driving days by going seventy down roads with speed limits of thirty-five and forty-five.

Work was disappointing and discouraging. Not one person bought anything. I sat in a chair surrounded by my paintings and felt like a loser.

The feeling was intensified when Stephen asked me a question.

"What are you going to do, man?"

I looked up from the floor and at him. He was inspecting the scene somberly.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I hadn't felt this strained in a long time. It was like something heavy was settled in my throat, pulling it down and settling on my heart. I wanted to cry but it wasn't going to happen. I'm not going to cry because I didn't sell a painting. I'm not going to be like that. I'm not going to be a baby. It's not that big of a deal. It's not.

"You can't just spend the rest of your life waiting for someone to buy something. What are your plans for the future? You're getting married, Cole. You'll probably have kids; you look like the kind of guy who'd want kids. This won't buy diapers."

The weight sunk lower. I breathed deeply. Just breathe.

"Do you want me gone or something, Stephen? Because I can leave. If you want me gone, tell me. Don't try and tell me how to live my damn life." I snapped. I clenched my fists together and couldn't look at the paintings. It made me sick. They were shit. I was shit. Who was I fooling? I should have gone to college. I can't do this. I can't.

"I don't want you gone. If I wanted you gone, I'd tell you. It's gonna fucking suck when you leave because I'll have no one play video games with. I just wonder what your plans are."

What are my plans?

Honestly. What are they?

I don't know.

I tapped my foot against the floor.

I looked at the wall.

I looked at Stephen.

"I don't know what they are." I admitted.

Loser. Failure.

"Well I guess we're kind of in the same boat. My grandfather wanted me to own this my entire life like he did. But I really want to teach. I want to teach history. You could teach art." He suggested.

I stayed silent but repeated the quotation in my mind: those who can't do, teach.

"I've considered that. I know I have to make a decision soon. My parents would pay for me to go to college in a heartbeat, but I don't want that." I admitted. It felt weird to be having a serious conversation with Stephen. Usually we just talked about girls and video games.

"You know, you could get the publicity you need for your paintings easily." He said suddenly.

I don't want publicity. I want recognition. They are very different in my eyes.

"What do you mean?" I suddenly felt so tired, like I could sleep and sleep for days and it just wouldn't be enough.

"Your parents. If you let them say something to their famous buddies about your paintings, you'd take off. Once famous people like something, everyone else in the world does too."

But that wouldn't be me doing it on my own. That would be cheating. That would be my parents doing it for me. This is my life and I have to make it on my own.

"Yeah." I muttered. It wasn't worth it to try and explain that to him.

I packed everything up and we said goodbye. Michael's party started at eight. I just wanted to sleep until then. I knew that nothing I did could fix the problem right now. Sleeping is the only thing that might help a little bit. I wanted to call Emily, but she was still at dance.

At the apartment, I crawled into the bed. The blinds were pathetic so the room was bathed in weak, yellow light. I curled up under the cool covers. The mattress was so uncomfortable. That was all I was able to provide for Emily. She had to sleep on this every night because I was a failure. I couldn't provide a fucking kitchen table and chairs. I couldn't provide anything without my parent's throwing money at me. I wouldn't have even been able to afford this shitty apartment without it.

If we had children, what would I be able to provide for them? Nothing. My parents would buy them clothes and school supplies. They would give them the things that I was supposed to. Just the thought made me sick. I shut my eyes. Sleep.

But it was difficult.

Reality is a terrible bedmate.

What was I doing with my life?

The answer came to me effortlessly.

Nothing.

I'm doing nothing.

* * *

Emily woke me up. She sat on the edge of the bed and set a soft hand on my arm.

"Cole? Are you okay?"

She pulled back the covers and slid in beside me. She wrapped her arms around me and I felt a little better. I pulled my mind free from the web of sleep and turned my head. I opened my eyes and they fell into hers.

"Cole?"

She smiled when she met my eyes. I focused on her body pressed against mine and her eyes.

"I was just tired." I mumbled. I had a terrible taste in my mouth which made me wonder exactly how long I was sleeping. "What time is it?"

Her eyes had fluttered shut. She opened them again and glanced behind her at the alarm clock.

"Seven. We should probably start getting ready for the party."

The last thing I wanted to do was party.

She sat up. I stared at the curve of her shoulders, her shoulder blades, and her hair. I sat up slowly. I felt like I was in a dream.

She slid off the bed and walked over to the dresser. I watched her rummage through the drawers for a few moments before I forced myself out of the bed. I walked into the bathroom and turned the water on. I stared at it for a few seconds before I grabbed my toothbrush. I brushed my teeth and used the bathroom and showered quickly. I even felt disconnected from the warm water. I felt it, but passively. I shook my head and turned so the spray was spraying me full force in the face, hoping that would knock me fully awake. It didn't. I turned the water to cold. I jumped out of the spray and yelped and found that helped a little bit.

I turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around my waist. Maybe sleeping hadn't been the best idea after all. I wiped the steam off a part of the mirror and stared at my reflection. I watched the drops of water separate from the ends of my hair and then reached up and slapped myself in the face.

"Wake up," I whispered to myself. My cheek stung but it didn't help that much. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I left the warm confines of the bathroom. Emily was standing in front of the mirror, trying to pull back some of her hair with a clip. She was wearing a pair of jeans that looked amazing on her and a shirt that reminded me of stained glass. It occurred to me that she was a living painting.

Once her hair was pulled back, she turned to me.

"Are you alright?" She asked, concern weighing down on every syllable. She walked over and set a hand against my forehead.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired I think." I muttered. I grabbed a pair of boxers, a pair of jeans, and a shirt and slipped into the bathroom. I dressed quickly and a thought crossed my mind: I am in no position to go to this party.

I walked out of the bedroom. I couldn't do this.

But Emily was smiling.

"Do you think this will be fun? I wonder if I'll know anyone there, besides the guys. I'm actually kind of excited. Are you?"

I stared at the smile on her face and in her eyes.

"Yes." I lied.

Her smile faltered.

"What is _wrong _with you?" She demanded. "Did something happen today?"

"I'm fine, Em. Really. I'm just a little groggy. I'm sure the party will liven me up." I smiled at her. She smiled back and walked over. She leaned against me and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you sure you're okay to go to this, though? Because if you want to stay home, we can. I'm okay with that."

But I wouldn't be okay with that. I'm not okay with making her miss something she wants to do because of my weaknesses.

"No, we should go." I replied.

If I could go back in time, I'd change a lot of things.

* * *

**"I've been trying hard to do what's right**

**But you know I could stay here all night**

**And watch the clouds fall from the sky."**

**-- The Killers, "The River is Wild"**

The beach house was alive.

The music seemed to make the house have a pulse. There were so many people that they were overflowing into the yard. They spilled out of doors and windows and landed on the grass and sand.

Emily looked a little startled.

"Do we know all these people?" She yelled over the music.

I pulled her closer to me and wrapped an arm around her waist tightly when some man with dilated pupils gave her a look-over. I felt alive now because I had to. I didn't like Emily here. I didn't like this. There are so many creeps. She's so beautiful.

I pressed my lips against her ear.

"Please don't leave me." I muttered. I couldn't hear anything above the loud, reverberating music. The ground seemed to move with the bass.

She nodded at me, her eyes shining with rebellious excitement. She started forward and I hurried to match her pace, keeping my arm tightly around her. I inspected every man who looked at her, cataloging their faces in my mind so I knew who to watch out for the rest of the party.

We pushed our way into the house.

The room was red.

People were pressed against each other and it was so hot with body heat that I immediately began sweating. The music was so loud I winced and had to fight to keep from instinctively placing my hands over my ears. I didn't want to let go of Emily.

I saw a break in the masses of people. I pulled Emily with me and pushed my way through the people.

When we made it to the clearing, I realized it was a table with the stereo. Michael was wedged between the table and the wall. He grinned when he saw us.

"IT'S THE PEOPLE OF THE HOUR!" He screamed over the music. He stood up and we bumped fists, even though I wanted to bump his fucking head.

"YOU LOOK GORGEOUS!" He winked at Emily. She smiled politely, but I knew she was probably cussing him out in her mind. She hated him.

Michael looked away from us and motioned a man over. He was holding a plastic black platter. I felt a surge of disgust at what he was holding on the platter. It appeared to be squares of different colored bubble wrap, but solider and the little air bubbles were square and not round. Many squares were broken off the various panes, and I wondered how many people had taken a hit.

"Window pane?" He offered Emily and I. He smiled kindly and nodded at Emily when she hesitated. She started to lift a hand, but I quickly grabbed it.

"We're not interested." I snapped. Michael sighed.

Emily turned to me. "What was that?"

"LSD mixed with gelatin. They dry it. It's called window panes. Don't take _anything _anyone offers you." I muttered in her ear, trying to keep Michael from hearing me, but also trying to make sure she could.

Her eyes were wide when looked back at her. She probably couldn't believe she'd almost just consumed acid.

"Are you still on your choir-boy kick, C?" Michael yelled. "There's nothing wrong with having fun with some recreational drugs every now and then. The best times of my life were when I was on X or LSD."

"It's just not our thing, Michael." I muttered. I glanced at Emily and felt a little relieved that she still looked disturbed. She'd definitely want to leave now. Thank God.

"EMILY OKEN!"

What the fuck. Honestly? How does she know anyone here?

A red head with nice tits pushed through the crowd and hugged Emily. Emily smiled widely and they both started talking at once. I couldn't hear anything they were saying over the music.

"Cole, let's go dance with Angie!" Emily said excitedly. I inspected this Angie girl. She looked clean. Plus, dancing with both of them would definitely be fun. Oh yes.

Angie took Emily's hand and Emily kept a grip on mine. Angie pulled us all through the crowd until we found a semi-empty place on the floor. Angie grasped my other hand.

"I'M ANGIE! HOW ARE YOU? CONGRATULATIONS!" She yelled.

Why do girls with big boobs wear low-cut shirts? It makes it so hard not to look.

"THANKS!" I screamed. I wanted to ask how she knew Emily, but it hurt my head to try and scream that much. Angie grabbed a random guy's hand and whispered something. They began to dance and it could have definitely been categorized as public indecency. Emily laughed and wrapped her arms around my middle as if we were going to slow dance.

"I love you." She whispered. I smiled.

"I love you too."

I knew she probably could have danced everyone off the floor, but she spun around slowly with me as if it was all she knew how to do. I was grateful for that. The only time I ever felt like my dancing was even mildly appropriate for public view was when I was on X. But when people were on X, they all thought they could dance amazingly all night long. In fact, the guy Angie was dancing with was probably high right now. His jaw was chattering (which meant he was probably actually coming down from the drug) and seemed so hyper it wasn't possible for him to be clean.

Emily seemed so peaceful with her head resting against my chest. It was like she didn't even hear the loud music pulsating around us. I grabbed her hand and pushed her out from me. She spun and smacked into Angie. I pulled her back and she collided with my chest. She was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

"HOW GRACEFUL!" She teased.

"WHAT CAN I SAY, I WAS BORN TO DANCE!" I spun us around faster and faster until I was so dizzy I was falling over. I stopped and we both fell to the ground. The world was slanted and people were moving so fast in the red light. Emily was halfway on top of me and still laughing.

"I can't move!" She whispered loudly in my ear.

I laughed too. We lay on the floor with our heads spinning out of control until someone stepped on my foot.

"SHIT! BASTARD!"

I climbed unsteadily to my feet and helped Emily up. We stumbled for a few moments before our heads leveled out.

"I'm thirsty!" Emily said.

"You don't want to drink anything here." I replied. I pressed my lips fully against hers and parted them, invading her warm mouth. She tasted like vanilla and mint. She wrapped her arms around me and my head was spinning once more.

"GET A ROOM!" Angie joked. She accidentally knocked into us. We pulled back.

"Was that supposed to solve my thirst problem?" Emily joked.

I smiled and took her hand. "Let's find a bathroom. Tap water from the sink would be safer than anything here."

I held her hand tightly and pulled her through the people. I walked back up to Michael.

"WHERE'S A BATHROOM?" I asked.

A hand suddenly grasped my other.

I looked to my right and locked eyes with Caitlyn. Wow that bitch would be here. I am not going to let her ruin the night. I'm not going to let her ruin the night. Fuck her.

"I'll show you!" She offered.

Michael motioned for us to follow her. Emily's hand tightened on mine.

Caitlyn pulled us to the very back of the large room. She opened the door and it led to a small staircase. She walked in and waited until we were all in. She shut the door behind us.

It was so quiet in the hallway my ears popped. The music was almost completely blocked out.

"It's right up the stairs." Caitlyn muttered. I started up the stairs with Emily but Caitlyn stopped me.

"It's small. You both won't fit. Plus, it smells horrible."

I hesitated and Emily did also.

"I'll wait here." I finally said. I stood in the middle of the staircase and watched her disappear behind the small door. I willed Caitlyn to stay away from me.

She walked up slowly and stood on the stair below the one I was standing on. She leaned against the wall.

"Do you remember your art teacher from middle school who told you you were going to be famous by the time you were seventeen?" She asked.

Don't do this, Caitlyn. Please. I was just starting to feel better. Don't.

"Yes." I whispered tightly.

Caitlyn's hand pressed against mine and she passed four LSD microdots to me.

"You know what the difference is between then and now. You are detached from everything, Cole. What you need is something to attach you back to the things that matter."

My hand tightened around the tiny, colored tablets and I stared at them.

"I don't want these. I don't need these." I went to hand them back to her.

She grinned. "You do. There's nothing bad about that though, Cole. When you take these, you are still you. They just open up your mind. They free the creativity that you always have." She leaned closer. Her breath smelled like strawberries. "You could be somebody great. You could do great things. But if you keep stifling your own mind, all you'll be is an art teacher. And what a shame that would be. What a waste."

I was shaking. Don't do it. They looked so inviting, sitting in my palm. But I can't do it. I am not that kid anymore.

"I don't know how you know all this stuff, Caitlyn. But you need to get lost. I don't need these and I don't want them. I want Emily and if I take these it will destroy her. Just please. Leave me alone." I begged.

I offered them back to her.

She smiled.

"Hold onto them. You might change your mind."

I snapped.

"No, I will not fucking _change my mind. _I don't want these. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. Take these and go, bitch." I threw the tablets at her.

Her smile never faltered.

"Without these, you are a watered-down version of your father." She muttered. She grinned. "But then again, isn't that what you've always wanted?"

She laughed even harder at my expression. She reached into her pocket, and this time pulled out colorful pills that I recognized immediately.

"What do you have to lose? Nothing. She won't leave you for using them once. She might not even be able to tell if you take ecstasy. You'll just finally be able to be free. Don't you want to wind down for once, Cole? Think of all you'll gain." She leaned closer and pressed her entire body against mine. "Remember how it feels?"

Yes. It feels like everything is okay. It feels like I am at peace with everyone and everything. It feels like I love everyone and they love me. It feels like success. It feels good. It feels right.

But it can't be.

She handed three to me. I held them. I thought about today. I thought about how no one ever came to buy my paintings. I thought about how I could never provide for Emily. I thought about how detached I felt. I wanted to feel _there. _But I couldn't do this to Emily.

"Cole?"

I turned around and immediately knew it was over.

She walked down the stairs. She stared at the pills in my hand.

"I wasn't." I immediately said.

Caitlyn grinned. "He was. He wants to. It would make him so happy. But I guess you don't want him to be happy."

Emily's eyes were so sad. She stared at me with the worst expression: disappointment.

"I didn't, Em. She was trying to make me." I tried again. I knew she believed me. But she also could see that I wanted to take it. I wanted to feel different. And I think that's what hurt her the most.

She glared at Caitlyn.

"Get out of here, you pathetic bitch. He doesn't need you testing him. He's stronger than you obviously think. He's not going to fall for your games." Emily's voice was deadly. Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. She took a step forward.

"Exactly who are you calling a pathetic bitch?" She whispered lowly.

"You. You are so pathetic. You're trying to get him to take the drugs because you know the only time he'd ever even consider liking you would be when he was high." Emily snapped.

Caitlyn took another step forward, and I nervously moved closer to her so I could grab her if she tried to hurt Emily.

"You live in your own little world, Emily. You always have. I don't want him to take the drugs because I want_ him. _I want him to take them because he wants to, and I'm not going to dictate his life. You don't want him to take them because you're afraid that once he's high he won't want you. You're afraid that you'll lose him because it won't be you that makes him happy anymore. It will be the drugs." She lifted one of the pills up and set it on her tongue. She stared at Emily while she swallowed it. "You're so afraid of having fun that you'd never in your life take this. You're afraid of letting go. And that makes you the pathetic one."

"I don't need drugs to have fun." Emily argued.

Caitlyn laughed.

"Yes. You do. You're so tense that you're afraid to even let your boyfriend see you naked."

Emily was the one to strike. I darted over to restrain her, but it was too late. She slapped Caitlyn across the face. She moved forward and pulled her arm back, attempting to punch Caitlyn.

"I'm so fucking sick of you!" She yelled. I grabbed Emily around the waist and pulled her against me. I restrained her from Caitlyn.

"Let's all just calm down!" I yelled.

Caitlyn grinned. "I'm done here."

She walked away and I stared after her in confusion. It wasn't like her to give up a fight like that.

Emily fell motionless in my arms. I let her go and it was silent for a moment.

"When have you been talking to her?" She asked.

I stared at her in confusion.

"What? Talking to Caitlyn? Why would I talk to that bitch?"

"You heard what she said." She whispered.

It took me a moment to understand.

"What?! I did not tell her that, Emily! I don't talk to that bitch and even if I did I'd _never _tell her that! You know I wouldn't. I've never told any of your secrets and I'm not about to start now!" I exclaimed.

"We're the only two that know about that." She whispered.

"She's a psycho! She knows things she shouldn't know! I didn't tell her, Emily. I promise."

Her head and shoulders were bowed, similar to the way she looked after her dance instructor yelled at her.

"I think I want to go home." She whispered.

I pulled her to me. "Don't let that bitch ruin the night." I mumbled.

It was silent for a long time.

"Do you really want to take drugs that badly?" She murmured.

"No." I answered immediately.

"I don't want you to, Cole. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Her voice broke at the end and I held her tighter.

"I'm not going to." I said.

She pulled back. "Why do you keep lying to me? You've been lying to me all day. Why are you doing that?"

I stared at her, unsure what to say. It wasn't like I was lying about big things. I was just saving her worry.

"I haven't been."

"Yes you have! Something happened at work! And you do want to do drugs and you are going to do them again! I can tell!"

My arms slacked a bit. She is supposed to believe in me. She's supposed to think I'm strong and that I won't break down and do them.

"I thought you believed in me."

She pulled her face back.

"Me too."

"Then it seems you were the one who lied to _me._" I snapped.

She pulled back from me.

"I'm going out to the car. When you decide to start acting like Cole again, come out there."

She started to walk out. I kept a tight grip on her hand.

"Don't go out there alone."

She yanked her hand out of my grasp. "I can take care of myself, Cole. I don't need you to fight my battles for me." Her voice held implications.

"Emily," I begged. "Please, I don't want to fight with you. Please. This is what Caitlyn wanted."

Emily didn't turn around.

"I don't want to fight with you either, Cole. I love you. But you aren't acting like yourself and you won't tell me what's going on so I can't help you. When you decide to treat me like your best friend again, you know where I'll be. Can I have the keys?"

I stared at the back of her head.

She was right. I was acting different.

But so was she. She had been for weeks and she didn't even tell me until I proposed. I'm not the only one who isn't truthful.

I handed her the keys.

"Thank you." She muttered.

I watched her walk out.

She took me with her.

I don't know what she left standing in that cramped staircase. But it wasn't Cole Ryan. I felt so detached now that it was like I wasn't even in my own body.

It all multiplied.

My failure in everything.

I fucked up everything I did. I fucked up every relationship I had. I didn't know how to be close to anyone. I didn't know how to be the man Emily deserves. I didn't know how to be a good person. So I shouldn't even be trying anymore.

The weight in my throat broke completely, tearing a hole in my esophagus that brought moisture to my eyes. The weight landed with a heavy blow on my heart and the pain was too much. Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I trying to endure this? She didn't believe in me. I don't believe in myself. Nobody does. Everyone expects me to do the drugs, so why not do them?

I just wanted things to be back the way they were. I wanted to go back in time and never have told Michael about being engaged. I want to go back in time and kill Caitlyn. How can things fall apart so quickly? It felt like the end of the world but it couldn't be. My pride was injured today and Emily is upset with me. That is all that happened. But it feels like it is so much worse.

I think it's because I'm disappointed in myself.

I walked out of the stairwell. The music was even louder. I walked back over to Michael.

"I want it." I said.

He grinned.

"My man!" He tried to bump fists with me again, but I wasn't in the mood. I don't want to party. I just want to feel better. I want to fix myself.

"What do you want?" He asked, motioning some people over.

"Everything." I was speaking before even thinking about doing it.

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to candyflip? You shouldn't do that for the first time in this environment. You'll have a really bad trip. When I candyflipped for the first time, everyone's faces started melting off. It was not fun."

"I don't care."

Michael shrugged. "Whatever man. You have bigger balls than me, though. There's no way I'd do that again."

I grabbed four ecstasy pills and a blotter tab of LSD. Michael handed me a water bottle. I swallowed it all at once.

Michael stared at me in shock.

"When you're good, you're really good. But when you're bad, you're bad." He muttered.

It took twenty minutes for me to feel any affect.

At first, I felt a strange feeling of anxiety. The muscles in my legs tensed, as if I needed to run somewhere. I breathed deeply through my mouth.

Then everything looked clearer and better. The red lights were so bright and beautiful, and the music sounded so smooth and perfect. Everyone was my friend. I was good.

The moment an onslaught of LSD-induced thoughts harassed me, the X kicked in.

And it was like I didn't exist outside of my own body. The world made sense. Everything was part of everything. The ants were humans too, and so were the trees, and the stars, and the planets. We were all the same and everything was everything. Music was solid. My mind was free. I could do anything. I could be anyone. I had spent so long in chains.

It was like every muscle in my body had been tensed for a fight, and now I was finally relaxing. My mind was full of beautiful pictures. There were colors I saw that weren't really colors, they didn't exist, and they didn't have names. But I knew them.

My calm heart and mind craved a piece of the night sky. I moved forward, mindlessly pushing a path through the pulsating and hot masses of partiers until I could feel the moonlight against my skin. The moon was moving. I watched it reverently, a smile caressing onto my face, and it seemed to be swaying back and forth like Emily's pony tail when she walked. I stared at it for what could have been seconds, or maybe minutes, or even hours, and then I suddenly became aware that Emily wasn't beside me anymore. I didn't know when she'd left, or even if she had even been here to begin with. All I could think about was the moon and how it seemed to be dancing for me. The stars were faint and the sky itself was as black as anything I'd ever seen in my life. The darkest dark.

Somehow I ended up on the ground (ground? concrete? carpet?). I sat there and noticed I had a drink in my hand. I wasn't sure where it came from. But everything was still perfect. Such a beautiful song was playing and I could hear people laughing and I wanted to laugh too. The moon suddenly lurched forward. The laughter died on my lips. I stared at it in fearful awe as it rocked more wildly and then seemed to be falling right at me. I flinched back into the wall and shut my eyes.

When I opened them, the orb was gone.

I felt such despair inside of me and I felt like calling out for it, to see where it had gone, or if maybe it had fallen, but I couldn't seem to make any noises. I forced myself up and I walked to the balcony and peered over it onto the white grass to perhaps see if it had landed down there. I couldn't see anything except a mixture of white and black shadows.

I moved cautiously back to where I was and stood there. It was that moment that I took notice of a person standing on the balcony with me. It was a girl and she was beautiful and I knew her. She met my eyes and I was astounded by the drops of dewy moonlight that clung to the ends of each of her eyelashes. Her eyes were so bright and blue and she was just white skin except for hair as dark as the sky. She had the moon inside her.

I walked forward and impulsively reached out to grab her arm. Her entire body looked like white rose petals that had melted together seamlessly. Just as I was about to touch her, I realized that she was liquid, and one touch would send her away. I brought my hands back to me. She raised her arm and something silver and bright and harsh was in it. I stared at it and I couldn't remember what it was. But I knew inside it was bad. She was crying and the mercury moonlight was sliding down her cheeks. I had an itch to cup my hands and rest them under her jaw to catch it and maybe I could fling it back up into the night. But something told me not to. Something deep inside me told me to stay away from her but I couldn't. The milky light was too captivating.

She raised the bad thing and the instant she pressed it to her fragile throat, my stomach lurched and I fell backwards. Every petal the silver touched turned red until she was a white rose body with a red rose petal neck and then it was spreading and spreading and I knew the moon was turning into something sinister.

I reached out and pressed a hand firmly to her throat and red petals softly landed on my skin. It felt better than anything I'd felt in a long time. It captivated me. I knew it was wrong, but it felt right. Her skin felt good. The white roses were so pure and soft but the red had almost completely taken over it.

"Make it stop." She begged. The wind was shoving against my back and pushing me toward her and I stood directly in front of her. The wind was blowing the petals away. She seemed to get smaller and smaller with each gust. I couldn't let that happen. She was becoming emptier and emptier. She needed to be filled.

"Why?" I found myself asking and my voice sounded so wrong in a way but I couldn't even remember if it usually sounded that way or not.

"I don't want to be like him." She explained. I didn't know who he was, I didn't know who she was, I didn't know who I was, but I knew she had the moon inside her and I wanted to get it back.

"I want the moon back." I whispered and my voice wavered. She opened her mouth and little smooth moonstones gleamed. She leaned closer until almost all the petals were against me and it seemed like the moon was really the sun because I was so warm.

She promised me something: "Caden."

I didn't know what that meant but I didn't care. Her voice sounded like windchimes and her breath smelt of something sweet. I was convinced that if I drank enough of it I could have the moon inside me, too. It would be amazing to feel so warm inside all the time. So I tried to drink the moon out of her mouth, hoping at least I could taste the sugar of one of the polished moonstones, but it wasn't enough. I could feel the moon escaping before I even got to feel it inside of me. She pressed her entire body against mine and suddenly we were on the floor of the balcony. My thoughts were commanding me to go inside of her and take out the white orb. But something deeper inside of me was screaming, screaming, screaming, screaming so loud I couldn't even focus on how good the now-red petals felt against me. My gut grabbed my hair and pulled me back off of her and away.

It felt like a long period of time.

I looked at her.

She was lying there, in a puddle of red roses, her eyes shut, and the most upsetting expressions on her face.

Despair.

Disappointment.

Desire.

Deceit.

And maybe even a little death.

She was pink now. The moon was gone forever.

And I cried.

I was in the party now.

My body was alive. Every part of it.

I was back with Lila in the doctor's office.

She smiled at me and assured me it would be okay. I handed her money. I glanced at her flat stomach.

I was back at the party.

"Cole?"

A girl with hair as red as the rose petals was looking at me. Who was she? What did she want? The wind felt so amazing against my skin. I could feel everything. I could feel every single thing. I could feel each particle in the air. I could feel everyone's breath. I could feel their emotions. I knew everyone's emotions. I looked at their faces, and I knew it. I could see it.

The girl grabbed my hand and started pulling me.

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

I felt a sudden increase in what I was feeling. But suddenly I was shaking and everything looked scary. Everyone was bleeding. Heads were severed and blood was pouring out of everyone. They were screaming for me to help them. I pulled against the girl's hand.

"No! Help them! Help me!" I yelled.

The bleeding hands grabbed me and scratched at me. They laughed and wanted me to be one of them. I was shaking. I was in hell. This was hell. How did I get to hell? Hell, hell, hell, hell, hell, hell, someone help me!

I don't want this. I don't want this.

A man took a chainsaw to a child. I stared in horror. This wasn't right. This wasn't right.

"Cole! Calm down!" The girl yelled.

We were outside.

Bodies were everywhere.

I cried.

Suddenly, a hand pressed to my face and it was an angel with so many colors on her. I fell still and the bodies melted away and were replaced with the ocean. I stared at the seagulls and the seaglass and the seashells.

"What have you done?!" The angel wept.

What have I done?

* * *

**EMILY'S POV:**

Angie helped me open the car door.

"What did he take, Angie?! Do I need to take him to the hospital?" I begged.

He didn't move. He stared forward, his pupils so dilated I could hardly see the blue. Why did I leave him? What if he died? What if he overdosed?

"I don't know, Emily! But I don't know if you should take him to the hospital. I don't know if they'll call the police." I pulled my hand off Cole's face to help him into the car, and he started screaming. I glanced at him and his face was contorted with pain so violent I felt like dying. I pulled him to me. I placed a hand under his shirt. The moment my hand touched his skin, he fell still.

"What is wrong with him?! Oh my God, what if he dies?! I can't handle that!" I started crying.

"Calm down, Oken. He's not going to die."

I turned and found myself face to face with Michael. I wanted to kill him. He was the reason Cole even knew about drugs in the first place. This was all his fault.

"How do you know that? Look at him! He just stares forward! And when I take my hand off, he starts screaming! What the fuck did you do to him?!"

I leaned my face against Cole's shirt, hoping he'd set a hand on my head so I'd know he was in there. But he didn't move. He just stared forward with those terrible, dilated eyes.

"He's having a bad trip. The dumbass candyflipped in a bad environment. You need to get him to a familiar, comfortable environment and he'll be okay. Don't leave him alone." Michael instructed.

I wish he spoke actual English. How am I supposed to know what candyflipping is?!

"Are you sure he didn't overdose?" Angie demanded.

"No. He's fine. He's experiencing a trip so intense he can't even move. That's why he's acting like that. Just take him home." He said.

I nodded and wanted to kill them both. How could Cole do this to me?

How could I do this to him?

I blinked back tears and helped him into the passenger seat. He started shaking the moment I pulled my hand off his skin. I thanked Angie for her help and hurried to the driver's seat. I quickly set my hand on his forearm and he fell still again. I started the car.

I was driving for ten minutes before I realized where I was going. Miley and Jake's house. I couldn't do this alone. I needed their help. I needed to make sure he was okay. I needed them to help me. I needed them to know so they could help me make sure this never happened again.

I was halfway to their house when a siren sounded.

"Fuck!" I screamed. I glanced in the rearview mirror, praying they were going after someone else. But the cop car was right behind me. I signaled and pulled over on the side of the road. I put the car in park and looked at Cole. His pupils were so large.

"Cole, listen to me." I said quickly. "You have to pretend to be sleeping. You have to. Turn over and close your eyes. Do not open them. Don't say a word. Please. You can do this. I know you can. _Please. _You can't go to jail. Please."

He stared at me. I didn't know if he understood a word I was saying. But after staring at me for a moment, he turned on his side and shut his eyes. I exhaled in relief.

I rolled down my window. An elderly policeman shined a flashlight in the car. I wasn't speeding. I knew I wasn't. That means he had to know where we came from.

"Is something wrong?" My voice was shaking so much. I prayed he'd think I was just scared.

"License and registration, please." He shined the flashlight on Cole and I couldn't breathe. Please don't move, Cole. Please. Oh God.

I pulled my license out of my wallet and my registration out of the glove department. I offered them to the officer. He shined the flashlight on my license and then in my face. I squinted against the bright shine.

"Your brake light is out. I just wanted to make sure you know. You need to get it fixed as soon as possible. It's a safety hazard."

I was torn between happiness and anger. I was glad that was the only reason he pulled us over, but why would he even bother to just tell me that? Dick.

"Oh, thank you. I had no idea. I'll get that fixed tomorrow." I said quickly. He shined the flashlight on Cole again.

"Is he okay?" He asked.

I scrambled for an answer. "Yes. He's just tired. We just got back from…our wedding rehearsal."

The elderly man laughed. "I bet. I remember how long those last. When are you two getting married?" He shined the flashlight on my left hand, as if to confirm my story. The engagement ring shined back just as brightly.

"Next week." I said quickly. He eyed me strangely.

"You seem pretty strung out." He said.

Shit.

"I do?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. You know, we just got word of a huge rave party. You're coming from the same direction." He said suspiciously.

He can take my BAC if he wants. He can take my blood. He can do anything he has to do. But he can't touch Cole.

"I promise I haven't taken any drugs tonight, officer." I replied. "Although, at the longer parts of the rehearsal I kind of wished I had some!" I joked weakly.

He shined the flashlight on Cole again.

"What about him?"

I laughed a little hysterically. "He wishes more than I do! But we haven't."

His strange expression didn't falter.

"Could you please step out of the car for me?" He asked.

I unlatched my seatbelt with shaking hands. I opened the door.

"Could you walk to the end of your car?" He asked.

I nodded. I pretended I was dancing and focused on walking gracefully. I walked to the end of the car and back.

"Alright. Sorry for the misunderstanding. Get that boy home to bed. Have a nice day."

"You too, officer." I muttered. I quickly got back in the car and waited until he was gone to drive off.

Cole began crying and I have never seen something so horrifying in my life. His pain was so painful I could have killed myself. I grabbed his hand and his crying stopped.

I drove the rest of the way very slowly, diligently scanning the dark roads for more cops.

When I arrived at Miley and Jake's house, I was relieved to see their bedroom light still on. It was midnight and I was afraid they were asleep. I parked the car and hurried around. I helped Cole out.

"Angel." He muttered. I looked around, trying to understand what he was talking about. "The day has come. Everything is it. We are everything. We have to fly."

I pushed a hand up his shirt and held him to me. I hated this. I hated him like this. How could he want to be like this? How was this fun to him? This was terrible.

I helped him up to the door. I rang the doorbell. He shook. I wrapped both my arms around him before the shuddering succumbed.

"They were burning and bleeding." He whispered to me. "All of them."

I heard laughter from inside the house. The foyer light flashed on. I heard Jake yell something and Miley's laughter. She opened the door, and the moment she saw us, the laughter perished.

She had a glass of wine in her hand and a quickly fading smile on her face. She set her glass of wine on the table behind the door and motioned us in.

She stared at her son.

"What is wrong with him?" She asked, a hysterical note taking over her voice. "Jake! Come here!" She stared at him. "Cole? Cole?"

I started crying. "Miley, I'm so sorry! I didn't…I don't…I can't believe that I did this!"

She set a hand on my arm. "What did you do, Emily?"

"I left! I left and he took drugs and now look at him!" I started crying even more. She wrapped an arm around me and kept an eye on her son's dilated eyes.

"It's not your fault, Emily. I don't blame you. JAKE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"

Jake ran in a second later. He stared at Cole. He turned to me.

"What did he take?" He demanded.

This time I was the one shaking. "I'm not sure! Michael said he candyflipped, whatever that means. He said he's just having a bad trip and needs to lay down in a familiar environment, but that can't be right! Look at him!"

I can't lose him. I just can't.

Jake helped Cole over to the couch, and the moment my skin parted with Cole's, Cole started sobbing.

I rushed back over and sat beside him, holding his hand. He fell still again, his eyes wide and haunted. I started crying even harder. This was like something out of a nightmare.

Cole turned to me, his eyes sparkling with tears.

"I don't know why!" He cried. He was rocking back and forth, tears sparkling on his face. "I don't know why! I don't know why!"

I wrapped my arms around him tighter.

"It's okay to not know, Cole." I whispered, even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

Miley kneeled in front of him.

"Cole, what did you take tonight?" She whispered.

He shook his head, his eyes shutting.

"They were burning, Mom. All of them. And bleeding. And dying. And it was all my fault. Oh my God. I have to go! What if it happens here? I can't here. The twins are here. I can't let them burn! I have to go!"

A sudden hysteria overtook him and he fought against my arms, trying to run away. I tightened my grip and Jake held him down.

"I'm calling that dick friend of his." Miley announced. "Give me his phone."

I reached in his pocket for his phone, and I pulled it out. Along with colorful tablets.

Miley looked like she was going to be sick.

Once Cole stopped fighting against us, Jake grabbed the tablets and went to the bathroom. I heard him flushing them. Cole started screaming. I moved on his lap and wrapped my arms around him, as if I could smother the terrible images behind his eyes. He fell still again.

Jake came back. "We need to move him upstairs. The twins are waking up. I don't want them to see him like this."

Miley nodded in agreement. "I'm going to get answers from this bastard. You two get him upstairs to his room."

Jake and I helped Cole up to his room. I helped him down on the bed and sat beside him. Michael must have been right about the familiar environment thing, because he seemed a little better in the room he grew up in.

"I left him, Jake. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. I was so angry though." It was my fault Jake's son was now in the mess he is.

"It's fine, Emily. He'll be okay. Let's just help him get through tonight." He said.

This is not okay.

Miley entered the room a few minutes later, her face pale.

"He took ecstasy and LSD at the same time? Isn't that dangerous?" She muttered into the phone. Jake looked at his son in horror. "Okay. Okay. Now you better get rid of all those drugs you little prick or I swear I'm going to call Janette. Oh yes, she will care. Don't talk to me like that, you sick pervert. Goodbye."

She hung up.

"I hate that kid."

I hate him too.

"What can we do?" Jake asked.

Miley sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Wait it out."

He moved again. He reached for me.

"Angel. I think I got the moonlight." He started crying.

I realized he was calling _me _an angel.

I felt sick.

I am not an angel.

I did this to him.

I made everything burn.


	14. Misconception

**A/n**: Thank you for the reviews last chapter :) they are greatly appreciated. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter :)

* * *

**"Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" - 3OH!3, "Holler Til You Pass Out"**

EMILY'S POV:

The warm night air seemed to shiver away from me.

I wrapped the blanket around me and listened to Cole's breathing, waiting for the moment when it increased tempo; the moment I needed to take both his hands and guide him through the shadows of his mind. He went a full hour without whimpering or even turning restlessly. Miley flitted in restlessly every few minutes, wringing her hands and checking Cole's temperature as if he had the flu. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the most pensive expression on his face.

He spoke.

"I want," he started.

He stopped.

I took his other hand so both our hands were clasping each others.

"What do you want?" I asked. He glanced at me and I looked into him. He hadn't shaved in at least two days. Hair a slightly darker blonde than the medium-length hair on his head peppered his cheeks and jaw. His lips were chapped and bleeding (when he fell into distress he bit down on them) and not at all as smooth as they normally were. His skin wasn't even as tan. It seemed a little faded, a little watered down. And his eyes. They looked less like the ocean now and more like the dark sky.

His strong jaw quivered with the desperation of his oncoming words.

"I want a pencil."

My mind and my heart battled. I was automatically drawn to giving him whatever he wanted, whatever would make him feel better. But I knew if I gave him a pencil, and if he drew something magnificent, I would never be able to keep him away from drugs ever again. He would always define himself by this moment: the yellow light from the hallway drifting into his dark bedroom, his pupils so large they could have held the night sky, my hand clasped helplessly around his fingers, our bodies leaning against each other for support on his bed that smelled of fresh sheets, his mother wavering between tears and anger in the next room, his father pacing, my heart breaking, and him drawing.

I don't think the journey would have mattered much to him once he saw the results.

I forced myself to ignore his request for his own wellbeing. This can't be his artistic inspiration. I will not lose him to a canvas and an oil pastel.

Miley entered the room again. I don't know if it was intentional, but she had a pattern going. Roughly every ten minutes she entered the room.

She walked around the bed and stepped up on the platform. She set her hand on Cole's forehead and he simply stared at her.

"He's still burning up. I know the drugs are supposed to raise body temperature a little bit, but surely not this much." She fussed. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

Cole suddenly grabbed her arm. She looked at him in surprise and I did too.

"Mom." He said. He stared at her intently. "Mom. I told you. I didn't have a choice. It made me. I _had _to. For all of us. For the entire world. Understand? It wasn't an option. It wasn't. I had to be the hero, you see, I had to save them all by damning me."

Her eyes widened and she glanced at me quickly. When she met my gaze she looked away and I immediately knew she knew something I didn't.

"Miley? What is he talking about?" I asked.

She seemed to be fighting back a wave of emotion. She hugged Cole and whispered four life-saving words: everything will be alright.

She stood up and walked around the bed, sitting beside me. She wrapped an arm around me.

"I'm not really sure, Emily. LSD induced thoughts, I guess. This should be over soon though. You can go into the other room if you want to sleep. I'll stay in here."

I shook my head. "No, I'm not leaving him."

Not this time.

She nodded and glanced up at the doorway. She stared at it. A few seconds later, Jake walked in. I wasn't sure how she heard him coming up when I hadn't. Maybe she was just that attuned to him.

She stood up and set a hand on his chest. I turned around and glanced at Cole while they talked. I wanted to block out their conversation so I wasn't eavesdropping, but they were standing in the same room.

"Jake, go to bed. You have to film tomorrow."

"I'm not going. They already think my dad is on his deathbed. I'll just explain to them that my mother had a psychotic break and I had to stay with her. That wouldn't even be lying…"

"You don't have to stay up."

"Neither do you."

"He's my son."

"He's mine too."

Their voices faded and I turned around. They'd left the room. I assumed from the sound of muffled voices that they went into the next room.

I curled up beside Cole. His clothes smelled of smoke, alcohol, and pot. I leaned my head against his shoulder and shut my eyes. Then all I could do was listen. I heard the air gushing out of the vents, the muffled voices, his breathing. I was ready for this to be over. I wanted Cole back.

The voices rose a bit and I caught a few troublesome words: rehab, therapy, and police.

I would never have brought him here if I thought Miley and Jake would put him in some kind of rehab program. They can't do that. It's not like he's been getting high for months. He just made a mistake tonight. It's not fair that he should have to go to rehab for this one mistake.

But a part of me wondered if it was just going to be this once.

The voices grew quiet.

Cole and I rested.

Every now and then he'd whispered something to me that made no sense ("Flowers grow on stones in France", "The moon is not gone", "I can taste sounds") and I would nod and kiss his arm as if I accepted these facts.

I had to use the restroom terribly nearing the fourth hour lying in the bed, but I was afraid to leave his side. It was hard to determine whether that was because I thought he needed me here, or if I was afraid to find out he didn't.

Miley came in every few minutes, carting drinks and food, trying to get both of us to take something. I had no appetite, and I'm not even sure if Cole knew what the word eat meant. We declined each time.

Cole seemed to get worse as the hours went by. His calm countenance was replaced with a frantic sorrow. He turned restlessly and kept telling me he had to leave. I refused to let go of his body, trying to explain to him that everything was okay and he was just hallucinating. He didn't believe me.

Jake slipped into the room around five AM. I stared at him in suspicious confusion. He was holding a bottle of whiskey by the neck. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed by Cole. I watched in disbelief as he screwed the top off.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" I hissed into the dark. I tightened my hand around Cole's.

"Calm. I'm just giving him a sip. It'll take the edge off." He defended. He offered the bottle to Cole and helped him take a gulp.

"You're going to make him an alcoholic." I accused. "A bad trip isn't an injury. That won't help."

He smiled at me, as if he found my defending his son precious. I glared.

"Trust me."

He and the whiskey left the room. And Cole did in fact settle down a little. I tried to figure out how many hours he'd been under the influence. At least six. When did this wear off?

I was drifting off to sleep when a sharp pain stunned me.

I winced and sat up, pressing a hand over my abdomen. Burning, stabbing pain took over my mind. It wasn't time for me to start my period so these couldn't be menstrual cramps. They felt like they were though, just three times worse than usual.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up. Miley entered the room, eying me with concern. I swallowed and breathed deeply through my nose and nodded, my teeth clenched and my lips parted from the shock of the sudden pain. I leaned back down on the bed, letting my hand drop away from my abdomen.

She sat down beside me and gave me one of those looks only a mother could give.

"Cramps? Do you want some pain medicine?" She guessed. I shook my head tightly. A wave of nausea overcame me.

Her concern spiked and spilled over out of her eyes. She set a hand on my arm and I realized she's the only person who's ever looked at me with that motherly look. She's the only woman who's ever actually treated me like I was her own child, even when I'm not.

"Did you drink anything at that party?" She immediately asked. She set her hand on my forehead this time. _I am fine_, I wanted to insist, _it's Cole that's hurt_. But she was almost as stubborn as Cole. It was pointless to even argue.

"No. Cole wouldn't let me. I think I'm fine now." I muttered. This was not the time for me to have some stupid medical issue. I'd never had any health issue before and I didn't need to start now.

I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, attempting to alleviate the pain. That helped a bit.

"When's the last time you ate?" She asked.

I thought. I couldn't even remember.

"Lunch maybe?" I tried.

"You probably just need to eat. I'll bring you something."

She ignored my protests and left the room. I curled into myself and breathed deeply through my mouth.

Cole expressed that he was slowly digging himself out from under the rubble with a simple action. He set his hand on my head and smoothed it down in a gesture so comforting I really did feel a little better. I lifted my head and I could see specks of him sparkling in his eyes. His jaw appeared clenched and his eyelids heavy.

"Sleep," I suggested.

He shook his head slowly.

"Why not?" I asked. I was pleased that he understood what I meant.

"They will take you." His dark eyes bore heavily into mine. All his fears and hallucinations gripped the edges of his eye sockets with pointed claws. They arched their dark backs and took off, flying straight at me. They settled on my shoulders. I understood them.

"No they won't. They're gone. As long as I'm with you, they can't take me. We'll sleep together. It will be okay. Here, lay back." I helped him lay back down and I fixed the pillow under his head. I curled up next to him and stared at him until he shut his eyes.

It stung.

His weakness, my betrayal, the pain in my abdomen, and the cold air numbing my cheek and nose.

His chest expanded and fell rapidly, like the salty tide rolling and recoiling.

His hand pressed to my back and I could feel the words he could not say: _I am here even when I'm not. You will be okay._

I held him so tightly to me his ribs were pressing painfully against my own. I tried to tell him what _I _could not say: _Seeing you like this makes me feel like I've lost you to your past self. _

_Please. _

Just please.

_Don't leave me.

* * *

_

I awoke to the sound of loud music and screaming.

For a terrible moment I felt like I was back at that party. I shuddered and automatically tensed, as if to run. But once I was able to pull my mind free from the sticky trap of sleep, I was able to discern the music as a CD from one of Adeline's princess movies and the screaming as peals of happy laughter as Odette and Adeline played.

I was plastered to Cole's side. The cool night faded to a hot day. I vaguely remembered waking sometime in the early morning and pulling our shirts off, leaving me in my tank-top and him shirtless, so our skin was stuck together like sweaty bare skin stuck to a leather seat in the summer. The sheets were glued uncomfortably to our moist bodies. I kept my face hidden against his chest and reached up blindly, hoping to feel his face and paint a picture of what he was like after all the hours that had passed.

"Feeling better?"

I immediately jumped up, ripping my skin away from Cole's. The cool rush of air that issued from being free from Cole's body heat and the blanket was refreshing. Miley and Jake were sitting in chairs beside the bed and I immediately felt embarrassed. It's not like Cole and I were doing anything wrong, but it still felt weird that they saw me lying against him when his shirt was off.

I answered Miley's question. "Yes."

I glanced at Cole. He was lying there quietly. He didn't say a word, but I knew he wasn't high anymore. I could tell.

I fixed my twisted tank-top and crossed my legs in the bed. I was dying to take these tight jeans off. Nothing was more unbearable to sleep in. I'd considered stripping those off too last night, but I was so glad now that I'd decided against that. For once my insecurities served a purpose. I gathered the sheets and pulled them up to cover my legs. I realized Miley and Jake were in the middle of a conversation with Cole while I was sleeping. I awkwardly unfolded my legs and stretched them out, preparing myself to climb off the sickeningly warm bed.

"Should I go?" I asked hesitantly.

"Nope, you're fine." Jake said. He had a laptop balanced on his lap and he was clicking furiously. "Die cop! DIE! NO! NO! DAMMIT! I WAS SO CLOSE TO BEATING LEVEL TWO! THIS GAME IS RACIST! I AM SUING!"

He angrily slammed his laptop shut. Cole winced at the sound and I automatically slid closer to him. He refused to meet anyone's eyes.

Miley rolled her eyes at Jake. She patted his arm.

"You do that, honey."

She turned back to face me.

"We were just talking with Cole. We didn't want to wake you and we don't want him leaving this room until he can start acting normal. Odette will catch on if anything is off." She explained.

Jake yawned and set his feet on Cole's nightstand. He slid down in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"So, Cole, which would you prefer: a ping-pong table, a swimming pool, or hot shrinks?"

Cole turned and looked at his father. When he spoke, his voice was cold, detached, and upsettingly familiar.

"What are you talking about?" He finally asked.

It felt so good to hear his voice, even if it was so monotonous and reminded me of the past. Part of me had honestly expected him to stay high forever.

"Rehab facilities, of course. I did some research all night and I found three of the best in Malibu. But they don't all have the best of both worlds," he paused and gave Miley an exaggerated wink. She rolled her eyes again but laughed. "You have one with ping-pong, another with a great swimming pool, and another that appears to have Grade A group discussion leaders. The call is yours."

Cole simply stared at his father, a blank expression on his face. After forty long, tense seconds, he spoke.

"I am not going into a rehab program." He whispered clearly.

Miley leaned forward and grabbed Cole's hands.

"Honey, you came here so high I don't even think you knew your own name. Of course you're going to a rehab center."

Cole angrily yanked his hands out of Miley's grip. Her face seemed to shatter.

He turned to face me. The blue in his eyes was back, but a red surrounded it. I gazed into the sea. I watched a wave swell and climb until it collapsed.

"You took me to my _parent's house_?" He exclaimed incredulously.

For a moment I was thirteen again. I slid out of the bed, attempting to escape his accusatory stares. They only intensified when I was standing.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled. He was not himself. His face slipped into a puddle of anger and suddenly my own rocketed up. "But you were tripping so hard you'll be tasting concrete for weeks so how was I supposed to know where you wanted me to take you? We never exactly covered a plan for something like last night. You were so gone you were mumbling things about people being ants or something like that and I thought you were going to die. I took you here because I needed help. Because you left me alone to pick you up off the ground." I snapped.

He sat up. The sheet slid down his body and heaped just below the waistline of his jeans. Something seemed to be welling up inside of him. His mouth snapped open and broken words flew out.

"Yeah, well, you promised me you wouldn't leave me alone. You promised me that. And I only went to that stupid party because you wanted to!"

All my joints seemed to ache. I suddenly longed for the smooth, walnut wood floors and barre in the studios. I longed to do exercices à la barre until the muscles in my legs and hips were so sore I couldn't walk more than a few feet, until I didn't have to think anymore, until I was able to sweat out the guilt.

It disturbed me that I was dreaming of escaping Cole and going to the dance studio, the one place that had injured me the most.

My guilt corroded the shelf holding up my heart and I stood there, numbed, as it tumbled to the ground. I whispered all I could:

"I am so sorry, Cole."

I ignored the nauseous feeling in my stomach and I turned around and walked from the room.

The creak of the bed and a hand on my arm stopped me. I turned around. Cole's hair was disheveled and his jeans twisted from tossing and turning. He hesitantly pulled me against him and I set my hands against his warm abs that he didn't have to do anything to maintain ("Good genes," he always claimed thankfully, "and lucky for me because I'm about as athletic as Ryan Seacrest."). His hand settled over my spine and if I inhaled deeply enough I could sense a hint of his unique smell—a mixture of paint, sunshine, the ocean, and Axe shampoo—under the smell of the party.

Miley and Jake slipped out of the room and I had forgotten they were here.

"Maybe," He whispered, "we'd be happier without each other."

If his hand wouldn't have been on me, I might have crumbled. I knew he didn't want us apart though. I knew he still loved me by the way he touched me. His hand held me as delicately as he stroked a canvas with a paintbrush.

"We wouldn't." I said immediately.

"I keep fucking things up, Em. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone." He paused, his voice becoming weighted. "Maybe you're meant to be with someone better."

I shook my head against him. "You know that isn't true, Cole. It isn't us that's the problem, it's our jobs and my dancing and your art. They are interfering. But we aren't willing to give them up, and I'm not giving up on this relationship." I pulled back and glanced at him. He looked relieved at my persistence; as if he really thought I'd want him to leave me. I worked to get him for ten years. I wasn't about to give him up now just because he abused mushrooms for anxiety relief. "We both want the same things, Cole. Let's work at them together. Instead of hiding so much about such a big part of ourselves from each other, let's share it."

He inspected me and then smiled tenderly. He kissed my nose and my face broke out in a smile identical to his.

"I'm sorry, Emily. I'm sorry for doing drugs. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I love you so much, and I think you're right. I'm just really sorry." He pressed his face into my hair and his breath was warm against my scalp. I slid my arms around him. I felt instantly better. He didn't blame me. He was okay, he was here. He wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have left you. Are you okay?" I pulled back and inspected his face. He offered me a smile and my stomach somersaulted. I knew we probably needed to talk more about what happened. But I already understood why he did it. Talking about it more would just harp on it.

"Well. Let's just say I can honestly promise I will never touch that shit ever again." He laughed weakly. I retreated out of his arms and over to the bed. I sat down on it and he sauntered over, dropping down beside me.

"What did it feel like?" I asked curiously. I never would have the nerve to try it myself, but that didn't stop me from wondering.

"For a while, amazing. It was like…" he stopped. He grabbed my hand and balanced my palm on his. He flipped my arm over, exposing my inner arm. He ran the backs of his fingernails over my skin slowly and lightly, up to the crease of my elbow. Pleasant, gentle tingles engulfed my arm. His hand fell still. "It felt like that, except over my entire body. And my mind too. It felt like everything was okay and I was okay. But then…well, you saw what it was like when it turned sour. It was a lot of violent hallucinations. I can't even tell you right now what all I did last night because all I remember are bits and pieces of certain hallucinations."

I leaned against his strong body and felt intense happiness when he wrapped his arm around me.

"Let's just put this behind us." I whispered.

He pushed a warm hand up my shirt, just like I'd done innumerable times last night to calm him. His hand stroke over my ribs and he turned my face, kissing me.

"I couldn't agree more." He muttered.

"I hate to interrupt, but I need to talk to Cole."

We looked up at Jake. I reluctantly parted from Cole and walked slowly out of the room, shooting a suspicious glance at Jake. He better not try to force Cole into some rehabilitation program.

Jake shut the door and I heard their deep, even voices begin arguing about something. I drifted away from his bedroom door and down the hallway. Miley had at least thirty pictures in colorful frames on the walls. I walked down them slowly, inspecting each one. The first was Miley and Jake's wedding picture. Cole did look a lot like Jake did at that age, but a little more mature, and a bit more serious perhaps. And more gorgeous, in my opinion. Miley looked just as beautiful as she always did, but she looked so young. The changes in her were shocking while Jake only looked a little more rugged and older now. She looked like she was barely over sixteen. The next few pictures were Miley and Jake in beautiful, exotic places—I assumed their honeymoon—and then there was Miley, pregnant with Cole, standing on the beach with Jake. The next was them with a blue-blanket buddle with blonde hair. I smiled. There were quite a few of Cole and I sleeping in the hospital bassinet. I looked at the pictures for what felt like hours. I was so immersed in memories that were both mine and other people's that I didn't even hear what Cole and Jake were yelling.

I came across a picture I'd never seen before. Cole and I were about six. The background was ripe with a setting sun and full of rosy pinks, powder blues, golden yellows, tangerine oranges, and lavender purples. There was only a sliver of the setting—a lake—but I knew where the picture was taken. Miley, Jake, and my dad took Cole and I camping in northern California for a weekend. Cole and I waded in the muddy banks of the lake, trying to capture minnows with our hands and laughing as they craftily swam through our fingers. We ran through the moss colored forest and ducked behind large trees, we lay in tall, dry grass that scratched our bare shoulders, we sat beside the fire at night and played card games, smacking mosquitoes off our skin every few minutes. It was the most fun a kid could have had.

The picture was taken after a day of swimming in the lake. Our arms were wrapped around each other and we were smiling so widely you'd have thought it was Christmas. Cole's eyes—narrowed by his happy smile—were turquoise that day, the slight green prominent because of the nature in the background. His cheeks were slightly sunburned and he was missing a tooth on the right side of his mouth. His hair was golden and cut in a little boy's comb down style. His head leaned against mine and mine against his. My licorice curls tumbled freely down to my shoulders. My eyes also seemed to have a little green hue to them, as if the forest was sinking inside of me. I was missing a tooth on the opposite side of my mouth, and my lips were very red, probably from a cherry Popsicle earlier in the day. A mint colored towel was wrapped around us, protecting our bare shoulders from the cool twilight. My heart couldn't help but swell at the picture. It filled me with a giddy happiness. We'd made it so far.

"I knew it then, you know."

I looked up. Miley was leaning against the wall, right behind a picture of her and Jake holding baby Isabella with the beautiful, caramel hair and soft eyes.

"You knew what?" I asked. She smiled at the picture and then at me.

"I knew you two would end up married one day." She clarified.

I blushed and glanced back at the picture. Six year old Emily looked so happy, so carefree, with her arm around her best friend's shoulders and his around hers. The setting sun gave us a regal, glowing halo. His smile melted my heart back then and it still did.

"I hoped for it then." I admitted.

She pushed herself into a standing position and walked over to me. She took my left hand and pointedly gave my engagement ring a playful twist.

"And it is happening now. Even though I still think you guys are too young, I'm happy for you."

I hope it's happening now.

She took both my hands and pulled me into a warm hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were teetering with emotion.

"I want this picture on the tables at the wedding reception. It's my favorite of you two." I nodded in agreement with her idea, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling she would be the only one who actually cared what color the napkin rings were or what kind of ribbons we tied to the seats.

"Why is Jake yelling at Cole?" I asked, the yells registering.

Miley crossed her arms over her chest. "Jake is concerned Cole is falling into a downward spiral like the one he was in before. He's only trying to help." She defended him.

"Just between us, I _know _Cole doesn't need rehab. Trust me on that." I said. She nodded and it was remarkable how Cole had her eyes.

Someone began angrily stomping their way up the stairs.

Odette stepped into the hallway. She was wearing a cobalt cotton nightgown and her hair was soft, fragile, blonde waves. She stormed toward Cole's bedroom door. She tripped over her socks, which were about ten sizes too big for her tiny feet. I assumed they were Jake's. She paused and sat on the floor, gripping the socks by the front seam and yanking them off her feet. She looked up and spotted Miley and I.

"Here, Mommy. I don't want these anymore." She held the socks out for Miley. Miley walked over, kneeled down, and took the socks from Odette.

Odette stood up like she had some intense business to get to.

She clumsily twisted the doorknob and shoved the door open. The yelling stopped immediately.

"DO YOU TWO DUMBHEADS HAVE A PROBLEM OR SOMETHING? SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO WATCH TV BUT WE CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING OVER YOUR DUMB, STUPID YELLING!" She screeched.

I fell into laughter immediately. Miley scooped Odette up into her arms and tried to remove her from the room.

"I'M NOT DONE TALKIN' TO THEM!" She argued, glaring at her father and brother.

Miley subdued her with a kiss to her cheek and a hug.

"She's too intelligent for her own good," Miley hissed at me. Once Odette was a good distance away from Cole's bedroom, Miley set her down, hoping she'd go the direction she set her in, like a remote control car that was running repeatedly into the wall before it was picked up and twisted so it was facing a wall-less path. "Jake used to sit in their nursery and recite his lines for practice. I think that positively impacted their speech development."

Odette merely swerved around and started back for the bedroom. Miley picked her up again, this time taking her downstairs.

I hesitantly stepped into the quiet doorway.

Jake and Cole were sitting across from each other. It appeared as if they were staring each other down, seeing who would blink first.

Jake broke the silence.

"You need to shave, Shaggy."

Cole stared.

His mouth twitched.

And suddenly they were both rolling in laughter. Literally rolling. Jake fell out of his chair and Cole leaned forward, his forearms pressed to his thighs as he laughed. I smiled in a bewildered way at the scene.

I heard Odette's voice from downstairs.

"I HOPE I DON'T CATCH THEIR CRAZY!"

* * *

COLE'S POV:

So the drug thing.

Yeah.

Didn't work out quite the way I hoped.

I was just glad I had a bad trip, because if it would have been amazing, I don't know if I would have been able to stay away. I have never tripped so hard in my life. That was like twelve hours stuck in my own personal Hell. Never again.

I was just ready to move on, like Emily said. I wanted to move on to peach colored tulips, white dresses and tuxedos, the tinkling laughter of children, and sand under my feet.

After my mother shoved food down our throats, Emily and I left. She refused to let me drive even though I was definitely no longer hallucinating. We got five stolen minutes together in the apartment before she left for dance. I found myself wondering: what if we did have to pick between art/dance and our relationship?

What would I pick?

I ambled around the apartment. I still didn't feel completely drug-free. I figured I was still coming down from the X, because every now and then intense feelings of anxiety would overtake me. I combated these with cups of coffee. What I really needed was a shot of some sort of alcohol, but if Emily came home to see an opened bottle of Jager, she might really help my parents send me to some dumbass rehab center. Just the thought made me shudder. I didn't need the outdated, off-white Formica tables with their ring-shaped coffee cup stains. I didn't need the awkwardly proportioned plastic chairs, the soft conversations, or the daily piss tests. What I needed was some stability.

I got on the internet for the next hour, fruitlessly searching for something to help myself. I searched my inquiry in a lot of different ways (_jobs for artists_, _work artists can do for money_, _what jobs require artistic skills_, _hot girls doing body shots with tequila_, _how the fuck can a fucking artist earn fucking money?) _but I couldn't find anything useful, although I did find some things worth looking at. A lot of it was boring euphemisms for boring corporate jobs where you sit on your ass and answer phones. One caught my eye, however. Exterior Wall Mural Artist. Painting walls for a living. That wouldn't be bad at all.

By the time I consumed my fifth cup of coffee, I knew I had to get out of this apartment or my heart was going to stop from caffeine overdose. I showered (the hot water heater seemed to be broken again, so it was a very speedy shower), dressed, and ran out to my car, suddenly feeling suffocated by the small, empty grayness of the apartment. I was so hyped on caffeine that I had an urge to run to where I wanted to go. The sun was searing the crown of my head and my shoulders though, so I convinced myself I'd have more fun singing along loudly to the radio.

I drove around back roads, singing along to obscene music my father probably listened to. I saw a bush with delicate, coral colored flowers and I immediately missed Emily and her coral lips. I glanced at the clock and decided to visit her at dance. She did say we needed to stop blocking each other out of our professional lives.

I parked the car and made my way to the door I walked in last time I was here. I was about to enter the password when my ears caught the distant sound of classical music over the roar of traffic. It was so hot out here I was already beginning to sweat. I fought the urge to just strip down naked. Possibly not the best idea I've had.

I walked down the block towards the music. I turned the corner and giant, oak doors were thrown open. I hesitantly stepped through them. They gave way to an empty lobby with walls the color of celery. New age photographs were featured on the walls and MALIBU DANCE ACADEMY was hanging over the ticket box office in blue block letters.

On either sides of the box office were doors. I walked up to them and peered through the octagon-shaped windows. I could clearly make out dancers practicing on the stage, and I spotted Angie, the red head with a great rack. If Angie was there Emily must be too.

I slipped into the cool theater. These walls were a blue so dark it could have been taken as black. The seats were made of the same oak, finished with cream colored cushions. The door echoed as it slammed shut behind me, sucked in by the fierce, dark air in the large room.

"AGAIN!" The choreographer shrieked.

I slid into a seat in the very back of the theater. None of the ballerinas on stage noticed my entrance. I spotted Emily easily; she was surrounded by a lot of blondes and one redhead. I watched her twirl gracefully. Emily dancing was mesmerizing. She could convey emotions by simply slicing the air with her long arm, or twirling around in tight, neat circles on the tips of her toes. She appeared to be weightless as she blended in with the air and floated around the stage. When she leaped, her legs made a firm horizon.

She landed and the music stopped. She stood with her shoulders thrown back, her chin pointed slightly upward, her neck held straight, and her feet parted. There were so many rules. Ballet was so strict. That would be something I would despise, but I knew it was one of the things she loved. It occurred to me that we were different in that way. She knew she'd succeed if she memorized the rules. I knew I'd succeed if I created something new that no one else had before.

My peaceful enjoyment of her awe-worthy dancing was broken the minute these faggots in tights danced on stage. At first I felt bad for them- they were reduced to dancing in tank tops and white tights- but my pity quickly melted to resentment.

A man with shaggy hair the color of sand and a bird-like nose set his hands tightly on Emily's hips. Whoa. Back up. She dances with _partners? _Like _guys_? I was not aware of this. I probably should have been, but I guess I never really considered it. When I thought of her dancing, I pictured her solo on stage, dancing _Swan Lake. _

He hoisted my fiancée up by her hips. I watched in disbelief as his hands moved over and cupped her ass. I glanced at the other dancers, certain he must have been stealing a feel, but everyone else was positioned the same way. With his new grip on _my girl's ass, _he hoisted her up into the air.

His face was directly against her crotch.

How is it even fair that I've been her boyfriend for four years but Faggot McSmallDick over here gets closer to her than I ever have?

His face was fucking pressed between her legs for God's sake.

I waited for them to rotate so I could see her expression. She didn't look phased one bit with this jackass's hands clenching her firm ass tightly and his face pressed places I haven't even _seen _yet.

The son of a bitch had this cocky smile on his face too, like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. I bet he is. I wonder how much he'll be enjoying it when I rip his eyes out of their sockets. The urge to punch out his teeth was suddenly overwhelming, even though technically it didn't mean anything.

I was relieved when his hands slid off her ass and he lowered her slightly. My relief was short-lived. He held her by her waist and this time her legs were on either side of him, gracefully pointed straight out, and his face was right in front of her boobs.

Okay, I am uncomfortable with this. I'm not even going to lie. I kind of feel like I did in kindergarten when Big Bert snatched my new lunchbox.

My bitter feelings stayed in place until Emily's partner released her and kissed his boyfriend.

Oh.

Okay.

That is better.

Now I know for sure it is strictly business.

When they all began gathering their bags, I stood up. Emily spotted me immediately and I saw her smile. I felt relieved. She ran off the stage and up the aisle, knocking into me. I inhaled her shampoo—coconut and vanilla—and kissed her lips that tasted like crisp apples picked right off the tree.

She wrapped her arms around me and stroked her fingers through my hair. For a moment it felt better than the initial instance of the drugs had.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Supporting you. You are beautiful." I smiled at her.

She blushed. "Thank you."

I pretended to be angry. "Although I didn't appreciate how that boy got to second base. Do you even know his name?"

She smirked and pulled her arms off me. "His name is Dick."

I snorted. "I bet it is."

"No, it really is Dick." She insisted, a glowing and somehow musical smile sailing onto her face. She giggled and I let out a few peals of laughter. She suddenly grabbed my wrists. She leaned against me and moved my hands so they were directly on her ass. She was definitely not wearing underwear. Did I ever mention how much I love ballet? It's such a beautiful thing.

She smiled at me. "Now you and Dick are even."

I kissed her and playfully squeezed her ass, smiling at her tinkling laughter and flaming cheeks.

"We're actually not even yet, but that's okay. I'm sure we'll be eventually." I teased.

"When you're done feeling me up, I'd like to go get my bag from the locker room." She whispered.

I ran my hands down to her thighs and up to her shoulder blades, wishing more than anything that the stupid leotard wasn't there. I'm not sure if it was the familiar spunk in her that I'd been missing, or all the caffeine I drank, but I was already hard.

"I don't think I'll ever be done feeling you up." I sighed. "But I guess you can go now."

I pulled my arms off her. Damn _life. _BUT we were going back to the apartment. The apartment with a bed. Oh yes. You see, while sometimes life doesn't exactly go the way I want, I know my homeboy Jesus always has my back. He sets up moments like these in dim, dark theaters for me. Those spaz-Christians who stand in the gutters in LA screaming about the eternal flames of Hell claim pre-marital sex isn't supported by the big Man-and-Son upstairs. But I beg to differ. I'm clearly getting the vibe that I'm supposed to rip Emily's clothes off. And I can read my homeboy's vibes. We're tight, like that pop trio of brother's skinny jeans tight. Besides, the only difference between dating and marriage is the level of dedication. Marriage doesn't make you love someone more. It's just convenient. I love Emily and I don't want anyone else so I don't exactly get what marriage will do to strengthen that. Love is good, and I'm all for expressing that love in extremely physical and calorie-burning ways.

I was almost positive Emily was getting a little better about the whole naked-phobia. She was the one asking me to have sex with her, so that was definitely a nice improvement. Although, a part of me thinks she's taken on a let's-just-get-it-over-with kind of attitude, which I didn't particularly like. I agreed with it in a way. She was making it out to be a bigger deal than it actually was, and once she just does it, she'll be free from all the fears that are weighing down on her now. But at the same time I didn't want our first time to be obligatory. I didn't want her to do it because she felt she had to. I wanted her to do it because she wanted to. But the truth was that I had no real way of knowing if sex was really what she wanted. I could only go by what she says she wants. And if she wants me to make love to her, I'm more than happy to oblige.

I watched her sprint back down the aisle toward the stage door so she could exit back into those dim, womb-like hallways that led to the locker room.

And oddly, I suddenly caught a clean, floral whiff of something that smelled a bit like roses.


	15. Dirty

**A/n:** Sorry for the wait! AP tests tied me up. But now I am free from the Hell called school so updates should be more frequent! Thank you all for the reviews last chapter. I enjoy and find it benefitial to hear your feedback on the chapter, so send a review my way :)

* * *

**"I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive, so I'm gonna start over tonight, beginning with you and I. I don't want to run from anything uncomfortable, I just want- No, I just need this pain to end right here." - Paramore, "Miracle" **

**"Tap on my window, knock on my door, I want to make you feel beautiful." - Maroon 5, "She Will Be Loved" **

Emily and I had just walked through the doorway, arms sagging under the weight of grocery bags, when her cellphone began ringing. She stepped into the apartment and I shut and locked the door behind us.

"Hello?" She answered the phone and then put it on speaker. She set it on the counter and hoisted the bags up there also.

"My neighbor, Loretta Rosenfein, wants to steal Claire's roses." Oliver greeted.

What the hell.

I set my bags on the counter also and began pulling the groceries out. Emily gripped a half-gallon of milk and opened the fridge, placing it inside.

"That's great?" She asked, her head hidden in the fridge and her ass sticking out. It would suck so much to be blind.

"Claire has a doctor's appointment tomorrow in Santa Barbara, so we're just going to stay there tonight. And if Loretta sees that our cars are gone, she will steal Claire's roses, and then Claire will become so depressed Bertha will suffer! So I need you to housesit tonight. If Loretta sees your car in the driveway she won't even attempt to steal the roses." He rushed out.

Oliver is such an old lady. Who cares about roses?

I placed a box of cereal in the pantry. Unfortunately, the moment I set it on the shelf, everything else decided to attempt to fall down into my face. I tried to replace everything where it wouldn't tumble out onto me.

"Let me get this straight: you want me to stay there tonight, knowingly putting me in the path of some psycho old lady with hedge-clippers?" Emily asked. I snorted and pulled my head out of the pantry, glancing at her. Her back was turned as she tried to reach the top shelf of the cabinet to place the can. I hesitantly took my hand off the boxes in the pantry and quickly slammed the door shut, preventing them from falling again. Once I was certain the door wasn't going to explode off the hinges, I backed away from the door and then turned around, walking up to Emily. I set a hand on the exposed skin her shirt was revealing and helped her place the can where she wanted it. She lowered herself off her tip-toes and leaned back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and held her body against mine, her smell surrounding me.

"She would never hurt you. She always asks about you when she's walking her Chihuahuas. She's only dangerous to flower beds." Oliver defended himself. I remembered he thought Emily and I didn't live together, which meant he expected her to come alone. I did not want to spend the night without her. Not one bit.

"Still, I'd feel better if Cole came with me." Emily voiced my thoughts.

Oliver seemed to be choking. "No way! You two can't spend the night together! That's very inappropriate!"

I laughed quietly and leaned down, whispering to Emily. "Yeah, Em, we can't _spend the night together!_"

She laughed loudly and then placed her hand over her mouth, stifling it. Once she got her laughter under control, she took a deep breath.

"Um. Dad. I'm going to tell you something. And I want you to promise me you're going to stay calm."

WAIT.

NO.

I shook my head at her frantically.

If she tells Oliver we're living together, he will chop my dick off.

At least let me get good use out of it before that happens!

If he does chop it off, how am I supposed to piss? Do I have to have a catheter the rest of my life? These are the questions that haunt me...

"No!" I mouthed. She turned in my arms so her chest was pressed against mine. She stuck her hands up my shirt and moved them around to my back, rubbing comforting circles on my skin. She rested her head against my shoulder and kissed my neck. Maybe it _would _be okay. Maybe he would let me keep my dick.

"Oh my God. ARE YOU PREGNANT?" Oliver began hyperventilating. "I thought I raised you with strong morals! I thought you believed in abstinence!"

"Daddy. I am _not _pregnant!" She exclaimed. Why does everyone always assume she's pregnant? Either they think she's very fertile or that I have very persistent sperm.

Oliver's almost-tears ceased. He took a deep breath.

"Oh. Okay. Then what is it?"

Emily's arms tightened around my body, almost like she was shielding me from Oliver.

"Well, Daddy, Cole and I…" She stopped.

"Yes? What? Cole and you _what_?" Oliver demanded. His voice was so full of apprehension that I was surprised it could fit through the tiny cell phone speaker. He never liked anything that involved our names paired together.

I could feel her heart pounding.

"We are living together." She finally admitted.

Silence.

We didn't move for thirty seconds.

Emily became concerned.

"Daddy?" She asked, hesitantly.

He sounded like he was drowning.

"For how long?" He sputtered.

"Well, I can't be fairly certain. I haven't actually been keeping trac—

"Emily Eve Oken. _How long?_"

I wrapped my arms tighter around Emily, this time protecting _her._

"A few months." She admitted.

Oliver's silence was more unnerving than his screaming. Emily gently pulled herself out of my arms and walked over, picking up the phone. She took it off speaker and pressed it to her ear. I leaned against the counter and wished for New Zealand. Things were so much better there.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know." Emily pulled at the hem of her shirt and swallowed what must have been tears. Fucking Oliver. "Because I didn't want you to be like _this!_" She angrily pulled a six pack of Coke out of the last bag. She slammed it on the counter and balled up the plastic bag, throwing it angrily at the trashcan. It flew a few inches and then floated to the floor. "Don't say that, Daddy."

Her shoulder slumped and I couldn't take it anymore. I walked over to her and gently pulled the phone from her hands. Her eyes were wide and her face ashen, making the light freckles on her nose stand out more than usual.

I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hi." I greeted.

"Corrupter." Oliver growled darkly. "Sexual deviant."

I spoke clearly so he would understand I meant every word I said.

"We are good for each other." I said. "We make each other happy. Don't mess that up."

Oliver bristled. "You're telling ME to not mess it up? I should be telling _you _that! My daughter is not some booty call!"

I glanced at Emily. Her hair—still damp from the shower she took after dance—was pulled back in a braid. Her heart shaped face was turned down to the floor and her body was making a graceful curve. I eyed her delicate shoulders, long, slender arms, perfectly-proportioned breasts, flat stomach, and shapely legs and wished she _could _be my booty call. If only I should be that lucky….

"Your daughter is a woman." I reminded him. "She is my fiancée, not my 'booty call'." I longed to say this: No one actually uses that term anymore, jackass.

Oliver was quiet again. I listened to the hum of the refrigerator for what felt like five minutes.

"You better treat my little girl right. If you break her heart, I'll break your neck. You two need to be at my house in the next hour. No funny business or I'll chop your penis off."

Do I know him or what? He's an open book.

He hung up. I ended the call and pressed the phone in Emily's hand.

"Well…that went well."

She shook her head and stood up straight. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm just sick of lying. I'm sick of hiding the things I want because I'm afraid people won't approve." Her nose and forehead creased and she pressed her hand to her forehead, as if she had a headache. She shook her head and a damp spiral curl slipped out of her braid. She dug her hands in her hair and angrily ripped her hair out of the braid. The rubber brand snapped and fell to the ground. Her dark hair surrounded her and she buried her face in her hands and started crying.

I stood there for a few seconds. I hesitantly walked over and pulled her into my arms, resting my hands on her shoulder blades over her soft hair. I ran a hand through her curls gently and untangled them, trying to understand why she let what people thought affect her so much. The answer flew to me: because she loved easily and with no discrimination. And when you love someone, or at the very least respect them, you want them to approve of you.

"Em. Don't let him get to you. He's just…_Oliver. _He's always been that way. Don't let him make you feel like you're doing something wrong." I whispered. She pressed her face into my neck and I could feel her tears against my skin. She cried with a grace similar to her dancing; quiet, unobtrusive, but moving.

I felt bad for her and mad at Oliver, but a little perturbed. Why did she even tell him? She had to have known it was going to upset her.

Her body was warm against mine. "I got offered a place with a ballet group in New York City. They perform in movies, in Broadway plays, for the President, for charity, and then for paying audiences. You should have _seen _the dance instructor's face when she opened the letter and it said they chose me. She was so angry."

Whoa. I wish I had a rewind button for life, because it gets so ahead of me sometimes. First of all, since when was she even considering trying out for that? Secondly, why would that make her cry? That is great.

"Wait, wait, wait. When did you audition for this?" I asked. I felt like that was something she would have told me. I guess not? This is why we need to interconnect our professional lives. It affects both of us. New York City. That's on the complete opposite side of the United States.

She leaned her warm body against me more, as if she gave up supporting herself. I slid my arm down so one was around her waist. I gently tugged on a curl and she lifted her head as it sprung back into place. Her eyes were red and her face sparkling with tears. I kissed her and her lips tasted like tears and the ocean. I pulled back and she seemed able to find the words.

"I didn't mean to. The instructor filmed our dance and asked us if it was okay for her to send it to some scouts or something. I didn't think anything of it. I never imagined they'd pick me and offer me this." She admitted. She pulled her hand up between our two bodies and wiped her eyes.

"Why does it make you sad? That is amazing, Emily. They picked you out of millions!" I exclaimed.

She squeezed her eyes shut again. "It stresses me out, Cole. New York City is so far away from here. California is the only life I've ever known. I don't want to move away, and I can't take you away from your parents and the twins." She explained. She leaned her forehead against my shoulder. "But then I think: how can I give this up? It's what I've always dreamed of. I'd be making so much money, too. We wouldn't have to worry so much. And then I just feel selfish for thinking all this."

New York City. The East coast. No beaches in the backyard. I wouldn't get to see Adeline and Odette grow up. My mother would be heartbroken. But it would make Emily happy. It'd get her away from the instructor, and it'd get us away from Caitlyn.

"Don't feel selfish. You deserve this." I waited until she met my eyes. "Do it, Em. We can go to New York City. I can sell art in Greenwich Village, that's the actual art headquarters anyway."

She shook her head. "I don't want to leave Malibu. I love it here. I love the beaches, I love the people, I love the memories. I don't want to only see our families on Christmas. I don't want to have a life that doesn't include them."

She pulled herself up on the counter. She set her elbows on her thighs and rested her face in her hands. I sat beside her.

"Well, it's obvious you want to do this, because it wouldn't be such a hard choice if you didn't." I muttered.

"UGH!" She screamed in frustration. "Why is life so hard?"

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You've worked too hard for too long to give this up."

She played with her engagement ring, sliding it up and down her finger. "I know." She muttered.

I made a decision that moment as I looked at her and her dark hair and her beautiful eyes.

"What time do they expect you to show up?" I asked.

She dropped her hands into her lap. "New members arrive in April."

I counted in my mind. August was already halfway over so…September, October, November, December, January, February, March. Seven months.

I looked at her.

"We'll have to get married first," we chorused.

We both laughed and I motioned for her to complete her statement first.

"They provide housing. Normally you live with a roommate, but if you're married, you get a suite for you and your husband. If we go as fiancées, you'll have to live somewhere else."

I nodded. "And we'll want to have the wedding here before we leave so all of our friends can come."

She grinned. "Getting to marry you earlier is about the only plus side."

"Look who's changed their tune about teen marriage!" I teased. She grinned and knocked shoulders with me playfully. She fell silent.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Cole? We'll be on opposite sides of the country from our parents, from our sisters."

I nodded, my resolution solid. "We'll fly to see them as much as possible. I'm going to earn us money with my art even if I have to paint rich couples all day. I hear Upper East Side rich families pay out of the ass for hand-painted portraits. Plus, everyone will want your beautiful face in their movies so you'll earn an easy thirty six thousand a week. We'll be fine."

She leaned back so she was lying flat on her back on the counter. She stared at the ceiling. She seemed peaceful now, and I realized this New York City thing had been weighing on her all day. It was probably responsible for her emotional outburst. But now that we made a mutual decision, she looked happier. I would miss Malibu, but I couldn't help but feel like we needed to get away.

"What should the wedding colors be?" She glanced at me.

Colors. Hmmm. Usually I'm good with colors, but I couldn't really pick this one. I had a sudden idea.

I slid off the counter.

"Well, let's see." I said. I motioned for her to follow me. She jumped off the counter and we walked into the living room. I sat on the floor next to the couch and she sat beside me. I pulled the tubes of paint out of the bag and set them on the carpet in front of us.

"Which do you like?" I asked.

She smiled. "How about you pick out one and I pick out one?" She suggested. "And then if they clash, we'll pick our second favorites."

"That sounds reasonable."

I examined the colors and eventually went with the one that appealed strongest to me upon first glance—a deep blue. I glanced at her and she was grasping a tube of powder blue paint. Great minds think alike.

I reached and grabbed a tube of white and a few more shades of blue. I laid them out in a row and placed my pick and Emily's in it.

"How about using all these as the colors?" I suggested.

"White with many shades of blue," She mused. "I like it."

"I like _you_." I winked.

"No way! I like you too!" She jokingly exclaimed.

She stared into my eyes and I wondered for the millionth time in the past four years if it was normal for my stomach to feel so shaky when she did that. Maybe I had some sort of neurological protein deficiency that was triggered by bright shades of brown?

"Oh yeah. Your dad said we need to be at his house soon." I remembered suddenly. I didn't look forward to tonight. Oliver would probably come home early and we'd wake up to him creepily staring at us with a machete in his hands. What a creeper.

She grimaced also. "This will be interesting."

"Interesting is a nice way to put it." I said slowly. Stupid Oliver and his stupid rose bushes. I don't want to say he's cramping my style, because just that phrase is social suicide…but…he's cramping my style. Majorly.

She shifted onto her knees. "Hey, what were you and your dad talking about?" She asked.

I grabbed a tube of green paint and placed it back in the bag. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about what happened again. I slowly filled the bag back with the colors, focusing on the way their names sounded: blue, red, orange, yellow, purple, brown, gold…

"Cole?" She asked gently. She touched my knee.

There were things I loved about our relationship. I loved the way we already knew everything about each other's pasts. I loved how we didn't have to meet each other's parents, because we already knew them and always had. I loved how her smile made me warm. I loved how we didn't have to talk much to express the way we felt to each other. I loved how comfortable we were with each other and how natural being together felt.

And then there were things I didn't like. I didn't like how her gaze was so penetrating sometimes that it forced me to see the truth in things I'd rather be blind to. I didn't like how much her wellbeing affected me, and how much her being happy had power over my own happiness. I didn't like the way I automatically told her everything I was thinking and feeling, even when I probably shouldn't. It was frightening how much of a hold she had on me.

"He told me I was relapsing into the way I used to be." I admitted.

Her brown eyes fixed on mine and they bore into me intensely. Her concern was healing. I understood the difference between past-me and present-me. Before, I was alone. The only person I had to worry about was myself. I didn't care about what affect my actions had on others. I fucked girls, I did drugs, I drank all night, I ran away from home for days at a time, and that was that. But now it was like I wasn't just me. I was part of Emily too and she was part of me and we were one person in a way. What I did impacted her. And just knowing that she loved me as much as she did gave me strength, strength I did not have before. Strength that came from selfishness, ultimately. But aren't we all selfish? We all want to be loved, to be someone's everything. We all want attention, and recognition. Maybe I just wanted it more than most people, because I had such a lack of it growing up.

"And are you?" She pressed.

I pulled her into my arms and she didn't feel right anywhere else.

"No. I feel like such an idiot for it now, Em. But my pride is taking a hit. I thought that maybe drugs might help, because they helped back then. I don't need them though. As cheesy as it sounds, I just need you. If I could sit with you like this for the rest of my life, the thought of taking drugs would never cross my mind. You make me happy. The problem is that life exists outside of this apartment. It exists outside of me and you." I rested my hand between her shoulder blades and felt the slow and steady swell of her breathing. "I don't know what I'm doing with my life." I admitted.

"Me neither." She whispered. She threaded her hands in my hair. "Let's be worthless together."

I smiled. "Just what I always wanted."

Except it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Emily. I wanted her to have my last name. I wanted us to have children. I wanted to wake up in the middle of the night and see a child standing at the edge of the bed, begging me to chase the monsters out of the closet. I wanted my art in museums. I wanted them to use my paintings as part of the art curriculum in schools. I wanted to see Emily achieve all she wanted.

But maybe it was time to stop focusing on what I want, and focus on what I need.

* * *

"I don't want any funny business going on in my house. Is that clear?"

Emily glared at Oliver. She crossed her legs and leaned forward across the table, taking one of her father's hands in hers.

"You know Daddy, just because I live with my _fiancée _doesn't make me a whore."

Oliver's left eye twitched at the word. "I know that, honey. I wasn't saying that." He defended himself.

A clap of thunder rolled through the house and Claire set a hand on her stomach, looking apprehensively out the window.

"Ollie, maybe we should reschedule the appointment." Claire murmured. Oliver shook his head and walked over to the window that was behind the round table. He pulled the white curtains back all the way and I stared out at the old swing set and the water dripping off the red metal. The sand that used to be under the swing set seemed to have disintegrated and made a slow crawl back toward the shoreline. The pathetic and unused swings were now situated in a patch of mud and a few fistfuls of grass. The ocean in the background blended in with the sky- they were both a furious gray.

"It's not that bad. It'll probably be over by the time we leave Malibu. Okay, if we are going to make it we need to leave now. Bye, Em. I love you. Take care." Oliver leaned across the table and dropped a kiss on Emily's head. Claire smiled at both of us and grabbed her bag, making a slow and unhappy trudge toward the front door. Oliver hesitated in front of me.

"Well. Bye, then." He said.

He turned around and shuffled out of the room.

The sound of the occasional thunder and rain falling against the roof was soothing. I watched the brief dimples that erupted on the concrete outside as the raindrops fell on the water-covered ground.

"Hmm…we have the rest of the day to ourselves." Emily pondered. "What do you want to do?"

It's questions that like that just _deserve _a perverted response. I mean really.

"Play with you. And when I say play with you, I mean card games of course." I joked. She grinned. I honestly just wanted my hands all over her because she was wearing this navy blue silk blouse (that had very fragile looking glass buttons that I simply wanted to pull off) that felt really good under my hands. And I just wanted to grab her boobs too. But hey. I'm a man. But actually, now that I really think about it, I bet it'd be hard to get any real leverage over a silk blouse. Hands have the tendency of sliding on it.

She pushed the chair back from the table and stood up. I liked her legs in her shorts and I liked watching her walk from a room. It was nice.

She disappeared into the living room before I actually remembered to stand up. I followed her in there and she already had a movie playing. It was some Disney movie we watched while we were little.

"Do you remember this?" She asked excitedly. She fell back on the couch. I sat beside her.

"Oh yeah. How could I forget? This was the most kickass movie ever when we were kids."

She sighed happily. "It still is."

She leaned against me and I wrapped an arm around her. She reached over and turned the lamp off so it was only the blue light from the TV screen and the gray light from the window. About halfway through the movie, the smell of her hair and her soft skin somehow intensified. I'd already decided to keep my hands to myself, because feeling her up while watching a children's movie just seemed a little cheap, but let the record show she was the first to start the feeling up. She shifted right after the rats attacked and pushed her hands up my shirt. Wow this is definitely not healthy for my self control. She sat on her knees with her hands simply exploring all under my shirt and I didn't understand how her hands running over my skin felt just as good as when I was having sex with Lila. Maybe Lila failed in the bed. Hm. But that would mean all the girls I had sex with failed in the bed because they seemed just as good as her. Oh my God. OR Emily was just going to break out to be a little demon in the bed and blow me away. Or I just loved her which made it feel better than angry, I-want-to-fuck-the-world-but-I'll-settle-for-fucking-you sex. Hm.

She grasped the end of my shirt and pulled it up. I lifted my back off the couch and let her pull it off me and throw it somewhere. Does this count as funny business in Oliver's dictionary? It's not like she's going down on me in the bathroom or anything (although…no. I'm stopping right there.). But Oliver is kind of a nun. Too bad for him if this does. She leaned against me and smoothed her soft hands over my shoulders and arms.

She smiled innocently. "I like your arms."

"I like your legs." I responded. I really did. A lot.

She laughed. "We're kind of weird…"

I kissed her and ran my tongue over the one tooth in her mouth that was slightly crooked. She responded differently than she ever had before and before I exactly knew what happened, I had her pressed to the couch and the sun was beginning to set outside and my pants were painfully tight. _Painfully. _Really. It hurt. Actual PAIN. If that's not God telling me to have sex with her, I don't know what is.

I ran my hand over her silk-covered upper body and found that my previous theory was quite correct. There's just no great way to grip anything when it's covered in silk. I pulled back from her warm mouth and focused on carefully unbuttoning her blouse so I didn't break it. The buttons were thin and delicate between my fingers as I pinched them and turned them sideways, sliding them through the hole. She sat up and I pulled it off her, throwing it on the coffee table. She was just in a white camisole now that was (to my great pleasure) slightly see-through. I could see the outline of her raspberry colored bra.

"I really love that color on you." I admitted. I pushed my hands up the camisole and gripped it, ready to pull it off.

"What color? White?" She asked, her cheeks flushed and a bemused look on her face.

I laughed and she giggled along with me. I loved how even when right now I could have had sex with her for hours I was so turned on we could still laugh about things. We were still friends even when we were lovers and I found that important.

I pulled the camisole up over her bra. Her boobs really were perfect, and I've seen a lot. They were perfectly round and firm and a great handful. Maybe I'm biased because I love every piece of her, but I'm sure any other man would agree. Except he doesn't get to see her shirtless. I do.

"No, raspberry." I clarified. I kissed both her collarbones and the valley between her breasts and then her nose as an afterthought. She pushed her hands into my hair for the third time today and kissed me deeply, lifting her upper body and pressing herself against me. She pulled back.

"See, that's something I really love about you. Any other man would call that pink, or red, but you go on about _raspberry._" She laughed.

"A gay guy would probably call it pomegranate. But they would be wrong, because that is not red enough to be pomegranate." I muttered into her skin.

"Okay. Let me clarify. Any other _straight_ man would call it red or pink."

She fell back on the couch and I leaned back over her. This bra had a front clasp and I found that very delightful. I grasped it and stared at it for a moment, trying to understand how it worked. I think bra makers purposely make these things so confusing just to tease poor men in the heat of the moment.

"Oh my _God_!" She screamed. I jumped.

"What?" I asked. I know I'm good, but I definitely wasn't doing anything to her to make her scream that loudly yet.

She sat up all the way and turned, reaching into a box that was taking up the last cushion on the couch.

"Is that my _diary_?" She exclaimed in outrage. She pulled the small, flowered book from the box and appeared to be choking. "Oh my God! It _is_!"

Look, I love Emily. I really do. There's absolutely no doubt about that. But I just really didn't care about her diary being in a box right now. I cared about getting that bra off her so I could actually have her in my hands.

But she seemed genuinely bothered which confused me. I sat back up all the way, soothing myself with empty thoughts that it could pick up afterwards.

"What's so bad about that? The entire box is filled with your stuff. I guess they're making your room into the nursery for Bertha." Bertha. I still feel a pang of sorrow for that child. Hey, that's my soon sister-in-law! Cool! Anyway.

She leaned against the box, her lips parted and the most devastating expression on her face.

"The lock was broken off with a hammer! My dad is a little rat! Why would he go to all the trouble of reading my middle school diary? I never thought he'd find it! It was hidden in a box of tampons under my bathroom sink!"

She hesitantly cracked open the book, as if hoping it was some other diary. She scanned a few lines on one of the first pages and then her face broke out in one of the most adorable smiles I've ever seen.

She touched my back shyly. "Eloc."

She started laughing and it took me and moment to understand. Oh. My name backwards.

"Ylime?" I asked.

"That was my clever code name for you in my diary. Eloc." She continued reading, and then suddenly her face caught fire. "Oh my God!" She yelled again.

I reached for the diary. "What?"

She ripped it out of my hands like it was a knife I was brandishing. "You can't read that!" She screamed. "I can't believe my dad read that! That's so _embarrassing_!"

Now I'm interested. I tickled her stomach and she squirmed under me, her grip on the diary becoming looser.

"Why can't I see?" I asked.

She stuck her hand with the diary grasped in it under her back.

"Because it is really embarrassing." She gasped out between laughter.

I leaned down and kissed her slowly, focusing on technique this time. I grasped the clasp of her bra, squeezing it and turning it until I felt it give way. Her bra sprang back away from her and I cupped her breast, kissing her even more deeply than before. Her heart was pounding very quickly against me and she was gasping for air even as she was kissing me harder. She grasped both my shoulders with her hands and pulled herself closer to my body. Yep. I am a sex god.

I held her up with one hand and reached under for the diary with the other. I pulled it up and she opened an eye. She narrowed her eyes at me and suddenly pushed me back. I lost balance and went crashing on the couch. My head slammed into the arm rest and she sat herself right on my lap, which as I've already explained, probably wasn't the best move. She pulled her camisole over her boobs, a self-conscious look overcoming her face. But as soon as she was covered, she took an even breath and then smiled slightly evilly at me. I kept a tight grip on the diary.

"You do know two can play that game, right?" She asked.

Well she would definitely win if she started like gyrating her hips or something. No question about it. So I did what was best.

I gently pushed her off of me, and I ran.

"No!" She yelled dramatically. She followed me and when I ran straight into the door frame, she took the moment to grasp the diary with both of her hands. She pulled with a strength I wasn't aware she possessed—damn dancers—and it broke free from my hands. She took off running and threw the back door open, running out into the rain. Her feet made perfect impressions in the mud as she ran and her hair flew back behind her like chocolate silk. The water was so cold against my bare chest but it kind of helped. Impromptu cold shower provided by Mother Nature!

I smacked into her right as she reached the swing set. She went falling and it almost seemed to be in slow motion. She fell down into the mud with a disgusting _squish_. I fell on top of her and she rolled over on top of me so I was pressed into the mud. I could feel it seeping through my pants and it all over my back. I shuddered, thinking about all the earthworms and shit in the mud.

Her white camisole was covered in mud. But I have to admit I loved the way it clung to her skin. The water made it even more see through. This was not my original plan, but it worked out nicely.

I momentarily forgot about the diary completely, until I saw her hide it behind her back. She stuck it into the waistband of her jean shorts, as if that was going to stop me.

"You must be joking!" I yelled over the rain and thunder. It was getting dark quickly. "I'd like nothing more than to reach down your pants for that!"

She stuck her tongue out at me. I reached behind her and grabbed at the book. She pulled her hand off the ground (it was slightly supporting her) to help grasp the book, and then we were completely wrestling in the mud until we were both completely bathed in it.

Finally, I was victorious. I grabbed the book and jumped up, running back toward the house.

"No!" She screamed. She crashed into me in the kitchen and we fell on the kitchen floor. I wrapped an arm around her and endured her struggling while I opened the diary. It was wet, but I could make out most of it.

"I hate to admit it, but I had a sexual dream about Eloc last night. It's really embarrassing. It's probably because I ate pizza before bed though. My grandma is always saying unhealthy food before bed issues strange dreams. Can't say I didn't enjoy it in the dream though…"

She gave up. I couldn't see her cheeks because of the mud, but I bet they were red. Was this really that big of a deal? When I was in middle school I had "sexual dreams" about like every attractive girl. Even my science teacher.

"Let's hope I live up to your expectations!" I joked.

She glared.

I pulled her into my arms. The gritty mud on her skin rubbing against mine.

"I had and still do have sexual dreams about you all the time. Nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, I just had one the other night." I mean sure, Caitlyn was in it, and it was more a disturbing dream than a sex dream, but we were definitely doing it for a second there.

"I'm not _ashamed. _I'm _embarrassed._" She scoffed.

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"No. For punishment, you're cleaning the mud off this floor." She demanded. But the corners of her mouth turned upward so I knew she wasn't really mad.

"Um. Yeah. I'd much rather clean the mud off of you." I admitted.

She carefully climbed up off the floor. We were really dirty.

"I think I'll let the shower do that. If I don't, he might feel left out." She laughed at her own joke and I couldn't help but laugh along. I was a little depressed to see her leave to go shower. Especially since I'd have to sit with the mud drying on me until she was done. She turned around on her way to the shower.

"But there's actually no reason for us to waste water with two showers…" She blushed as if she couldn't believe she said those words. I really couldn't either. And suddenly I knew that we were definitely going to have sex tonight. I could just feel it. And what a glorious day it was. Is that the song of angels I hear?

"Good point. We need to do our part in saving our environment." I nodded.

She walked through the kitchen and living room and then grabbed two towels out of the linen closet across from the bathroom. She walked into the bathroom and set them on the counter. I followed her in and she shut the door behind us.

And this is where the awkwardness set in. She took deep breaths, and I just felt so bad for her. I wanted her to see what I saw when I looked at her. I didn't want her to feel so bad about her body, because there was no reason for her to.

I knew that if I got her to laugh she'd loosen up, so I immediately began saying whatever came to my mind.

"How do I look as a brunette?" I joked. I glanced in the mirror, eyeing the mud that painted over my blonde hair. Interesting. Well that was a lame joke.

But she laughed anyway, the mud on her nose crinkling.

"I think I like you better as a blonde. For some reason, you look dirty as a brunette." She teased. She sat on the toilet seat cover.

I sat down on the floor beside the toilet, leaning against the counters. I traced a heart through the mud on her calf. She seemed to relax at that, and I found it very entertaining, so we sat there in comfortable silence as I decorated her leg with designs.

"What would you do if I bleached my hair, cut it, and straightened it every day?" She asked randomly. I glanced up at her mud-caked dark hair. I loved the curls and I loved the color and I loved the length.

"Freak out." I said honestly.

"Would you still marry me?" Her eyebrows were painted with mud but her eyes were still clean and clear. They seemed wider than usual.

"No. I'm obviously only marrying you for your hair." I replied offhandedly.

She snapped. "I knew it!"

We laughed together and I felt like she was at a point where she wouldn't be so nervous for me to see her naked.

I stood up.

"Well, the mud is drying on me and my skin is beginning to feel very tight and uncomfortable, so I'm getting in the shower. You coming with?" I asked. I unbuttoned my pants and slid them off, kicking them into the corner. She seemed a little at ease by my carefree attitude toward being naked. She stood up and slowly pulled her camisole off. She set that in the sink, grimacing at all the mud. I pulled my boxers off, suddenly realizing I didn't bring any changes of clothes here. Oops.

She blushed. "You know you really are pretty damn hot, right?"

Her words filled me with pride (something that had been pretty much absent from my life). "Why thank you. I think you're pretty damn hot yourself. We make a pretty damn hot couple."

She laughed and it was amazing how quickly laughing melted away her uneasiness. She unbuttoned her jean shorts and quickly yanked them down. She stepped out of them and I could almost hear her heart beating nervously.

Her hands gripped the waistband of her white underwear. For some reason I found it really adorable that her bra and panties didn't match. Her blush extended all the way to her shoulders. I smiled at her.

"Relax." I soothed. She smiled softly and nodded. She breathed deeply.

"Don't you _dare _tell me I'm beautiful unless you mean it." She threatened. I saluted.

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" I teased. She laughed lightly and I think her laugh gave her courage. She slid her panties down her hips and they fell down in a puddle at her ankle. The tension seemed to fall with them. Her eyes were shut as if she couldn't even bear to open them. She was beautiful. Every inch. I could honestly say that now. I didn't know why she put her body down so much; I quite liked it, and so did my dick. Just saying.

My eyes snagged at something above her pubic bone. It was a light birthmark, shaped remarkably like a sunshine. I about burst with delight. I loved secret birthmarks near (or on) naughty places. It felt like a dirty secret between me and the person. I grinned widely and took a step toward her, lightly setting a finger over the flower.

"I love your birthmark!" I said happily.

She immediately freaked out. She slapped a hand over it, her face coloring.

"AH! Don't look at me!" She cried melodramatically. I could tell she was partially joking. She opened her eyes to look at me, finally, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"Too late. I've already checked out the merchandise. I'm putting that on layaway." I winked.

She snorted, her face still red but the creases on her forehead fading. "You are so cheesy. So, are there any secret birthmarks on you I should know about?"

I frowned. "Nope. No exotic birthmarks." I sighed.

She smiled a smile I've never seen before in the nineteen years I've known her. She slid her arms around me and the smile that I could only describe as sneaky flashed on her face. "I think you're pretty great without the birthmarks."

I totally am. But not to brag or anything. Well, okay, that is bragging.

I quite enjoyed her naked body pressed against my naked body, but it was making the self-control I'd built up over the past four years seem pathetic. I started to pull back, but she clung to me.

"Don't leave me." She pleaded.

What the hell?

"I won't ever. Where did that come from?" I asked in surprise.

"I just feel really exposed. Vulnerable. Really naked." She mumbled. She pressed her face into my neck and she felt almost feverish.

I stroked a hand through her muddy hair.

"Well, that's because you are." I joked.

She lifted her head off my shoulder, a smile bouncing on her face. "Well aren't you just a smart one."

I realized she felt a whole lot better and at ease when we were laughing and joking around with each other. Her heart was beating so quickly.

"Would you calm down? I promise I'm not going to hold you down and inspect your body with a lamp. Even if I did I wouldn't be able to find anything I wouldn't like." I whispered.

She clung even tighter to me, which was really not helping things. I just really wanted to pull her on the floor. Hardcore.

"Emily."

She looked up at me. I looked into her dark eyes.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life."

She stared at me for a few more moments before smiling.

"Thank you. I would say you're the sexiest man I've ever seen, but you already know that..."

"Good point."

We laughed together.

"So." She started casually. "Want to have sex?"

YES.

YES.

YES.

I DO.

A LOT.

"Hell yeah!" I exclaimed. I hesitated. "But in your dad's house? I mean...that's really gutsy, don't you think?"

Her eyes shined. It seemed like a dark fire was smoldering in them. "I am _sick _of being a good girl. I'm sick of following rules and bending over backwards for people. I'm sick of doing what people think I should do and being what they want me to be instead of being what I really am. I am sick of letting my own stupid fears dictate how I live my life, or how I live my relationships. I'm not going to bend over backwards for my fears again. I'm doing what I want to do, and they can kiss my ass."

Intense was a word I'd pair with Caitlyn, and not with Emily, but suddenly it was the only word I could think of to explain her.

I nodded. "Sounds like you're ready to break free and kick ass."

She opened her mouth and I called it before it happened.

"No! No _High School Musical_ songs!" I screamed in fear.

"…I was going to explain that I am ready to have sex, so after we get out of the shower you won't ask me that five times—"

"I'm going to ask you that five times anyway." I interrupted her.

She sighed. "Secretly, I wouldn't want it any other way."

"I'll do it any way you like, baby. Upside down. On the dresser. In the sink. You name it, I'll do it."

She rolled her eyes.

I grabbed her hand with the intent of us going back to the bedroom, but she stayed still.

"We should probably wash the mud of ourselves first..." She pointed out.

Fuck mud! I don't care!

But I could tell she did, so I walked over to the shower and started the water. First times are supposedly really important to girls, so I wanted to make sure this went exactly the way she wanted. I was a little scared to tell the truth. I didn't want to hurt her. First times were supposed to hurt girls. I mean I've never had sex with a virgin before. The girls I fucked were whores. And it just really scared me to think that this might hurt her a lot.

I climbed under the spray and she climbed in after me. Both having never showered with another person before, we were trying to figure out how we could both share the spray.

"You're hogging the water!" Emily accused. I wrapped my arm around her waist and moved her so her head was under the water. She shrieked but didn't fight against me. I kissed her under the spray, watching the mud swirl in the bottom of the tub. Oliver is gonna have a mess to clean up!

I pulled back and she stood up. She seemed to bounce over to the edge of the bathtub. She grabbed the shampoo and squirted it in my hair. If the dancing thing doesn't work out, she could definitely be one of those hair washing people at the hair salons. She was great at it.

Once she was done lathering my mud-covered hair, she slid her soapy hands around my waist and hugged me tightly.

"I love you." She admitted. I kissed the top of her head.

"Love you too, Em."

I washed the soap out of my hair and then began washing Emily's. I'm not going to lie, it was very entertaining. There was so much of it that I could pile it all on top of her head so it looked like she had a soapy beehive on top of her head. When she moved her head under the spray, it was amazing how much mud came free.

Either Oliver is somehow willing himself to flush the toilet from Santa Barbara to prevent us from doing this very thing, or his water heater sucks, because the water got cold very quickly. We fought over the last remaining lukewarm water before it completely became ice cold and we both yelled and jumped out of the shower.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and Emily secured one around her. For some reason, I was beginning to feel a little nervous myself. Beyond the obvious fear of hurting her, there was the typical fear of not pleasing her (although this was the least of my worries), and then there was a fear that was so pathetic I was embarrassed of it. A part of me was afraid of how this would affect the relationship. Would our lazy days lying in bed just holding each other fade to insane sex all the time? Would we ever sit in comfortable silence with her reading and me painting ever again? Sure, sex and a lot of it is good. But, God forbid, I'd actually miss those activities pre-sex. She has me so whipped.

"Okay, where should we do the deed?" She attempted to appear nonchalant, but I wasn't buying it. She was breathing a little more rapidly than usual and she kept clenching and unclenching her fists.

Hating myself for what I was about to do, I took a step forward and gently grabbed her hand.

"Emily, you know it's probably going to hurt, right?" I asked her. I don't know why I always do that when she says she's ready. Well, yes I do. I do it because I love her. Damn.

She shrugged. "Only at first. I can handle a little pain."

"Maybe you should take some Advil first. Then we can wait until it kicks in." I suggested.

She smiled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

I breathed deeply. "Okay. But are you _sure_ you're—"

She set her hand over my mouth. I fell quiet and she took my hand, applying pressure to get me to walk where she was leading.

"I'm positive." She whispered.

I have to admit, out of all the ways to rebel, having sex for the first time under her father's roof was probably the most insane. If he ever found out, he would seriously kill me. It would be brutal. My blood would run through the streets.

In her old room, her bed was still present. It was pushed in the middle of the room and a drop cloth slid over the carpet as we walked on it. The room smelled of fresh paint. They painted over the lavender with an obnoxious yellow.

The bed was just a bare mattress. No pillows, no blankets. I'm pretty sure most girls imagine their first times on big beds with white satin and red rose petals. This wasn't exactly ideal. Plus, it felt a little strange that we were about to have sex in the bed we used to sit on and play board games as children.

We lay down together on the bed. I stared at her for what felt like a long time. The sun was setting and the orange and pink light filled the room, highlighting her face. It was one of those moments I just wanted to paint so I would never lose it. She looked at me with eyes full of trust and peace and I realized that she really was ready. She was beautiful. Her dark, wet hair was like a blanket under her. I pulled her towel open and her body was smooth and perfect.

"I really do love you." I told her.

She smiled. "I know you do. And you know it goes the same in reverse."

She kissed me and wound her arms around me. I draped mine on her back and ran my fingers through her wet hair that was plastered to her skin. I just kissed her for a while, understanding that the pace was going to be slow, and I preferred it that way. I felt all sentimental suddenly, as if this was also my first time, and I didn't want to miss or rush one minute of it.

I loved everything about touching.

I loved the word. I loved the way it sounded, the way it looked, the way tasted on my tongue. I loved being touched, and I especially loved touching. As an artist I'm naturally visual, but more than anything, I'm tactile. If someone put me in front of something and let me touch it for three minutes, I'd be able to paint it better than I would if I just stared at it for three minute. I see with my hands.

I loved my hands on her.

I liked them slipping over her soft skin. I liked the warmth of her and the way her skin was soft but her body was firm. I liked my fingertips on her. I liked them in her. I liked her lips on mine, her hands, soft and shy, all over me. I liked her sighs and our quickening heart beats.

I just knew when she was ready. She was lying on her back on the bed, her hair spread in all directions, her eyes glassy and her swollen lips parted invitingly. I hovered over her, the nervous feelings that had faded in the last hour returning. I set a hand on her knees and she parted her legs, and for a moment I thought about Moses parting the Red Sea to allow the children of Israel through. Wow. Thinking about the Bible before performing premarital sex. I'm so going to Hell.

I kneeled between her legs and she lifted them instinctively, looping them around my back. I set a hand under her head and moved her up on the bed. I set my arms on either side of her body and she lifted hers and wrapped them around my middle. I kissed her, preparing myself, when she suddenly lifted a hand off me and tapped me on my shoulder.

"Cole?" She asked.

I froze. Please don't back out of this now, Emily. I might just explode. I'm raring to go, so to speak.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

What would I be forgetting? Oh shit! Condom. Oh my God. That would have been very bad.

"Oh shit, Emily. I'm so sorry!" I freaked out.

She kissed me again.

"No big deal. Although I do find it a little funny. In Sex Ed—which was the only class we ever had together, now that I think about it—I completely missed the chapter on contraceptives."

I laughed and she let go of my body. I fell back and realized my wallet was in my pocket of my jeans in the bathroom. Wow I hate life.

I slid off the bed and toward the bathroom.

"I guess that means you missed the whole sliding the condom on the banana activity?" I asked. I picked my jeans up off the floor and pulled my wallet out. I took out what I was looking for and walked back into the room. She sighed.

"Alas, I did. I guess you'll have to put it on yourself." She teased.

"Pity." I joked lightly. I waved the condom. "See, I never leave home without my rain jacket."

She giggled.

Once that speed bump was taken care of, we got back in our original positions. And I'm gonna be real. I was scared shitless. I felt a little like that guy in those Terminator movies. I felt like, at that moment, the entire world rested on my shoulders.

"Tell me if it hurts." I demanded. She nodded, her eyes shut and her forehead tensed, as if preparing herself for pain.

But she didn't cry out. Her breath hitched for a moment and she grit her teeth, but that was that, and then she was fine. I was never more relieved. It must have been dancing. She's very flexible, you know.

The sex was a hell of a lot better than first times were supposed to be. Having never been with someone whom I actually loved, it was a new experience. And I can honestly say it makes a difference. There's something about being that close that mended us together even more than we already were. I realized at that point that there was no going back with us. We were either together or we weren't with anyone at all. There was no one else.

Afterwards, we didn't sleep like most couples in movies do. I lay with her for a while, fighting exhaustion, but content otherwise.

"Cole, do you know how badly I have fallen for you? Do you understand just how bad I've got it?" She whispered, her arms tightening around me. The same intense, passionate emotions surrounded her and it made my heart beat faster.

"I figure it's probably something like how ridiculously tight you have me wrapped around your finger." I replied honestly.

She fell silent. She ducked her head under my chin.

"I think I would die for you." She admitted.

I tipped her face up and kissed the side of her cheek, trying to not let her words scare me. She would die for a lot of people. She's just like that.

"What if I made a mistake?" I asked suddenly.

She locked eyes with me.

"There is nothing that you could ever do that I wouldn't forgive you for."

I could date girl after girl after girl, but no one would love me like she did. No one would understand me like she did. And I didn't have to look anywhere to find her. I was lucky. No man would ever love her as much as I did either. I loved the way her hair sometimes expanded in humid weather. I loved her knuckles, her one crooked tooth, her habit of running her hand through her hair as she read a book, her hatred for anything cherry flavored, the way she was so vulnerable and cuddly when she first woke up, and the way she cared about everyone. I loved her sense of humor that snuck up on me all the time. I wasn't ever going to let this one get away.

I realized suddenly, that for once, I didn't want anything at all.

"I've found what I need." I told her. "It's just you."

Life was simple after all.

* * *

The bright sun and an opening garage door woke me.

I pressed my face into Emily's hair and inhaled her shampoo, happiness about what had _finally _happened taking over me.

Until I understood where we were. Oliver was pulling his car into the garage, and we were lying on this bed, completely naked.

I am going.

To.

Be.

Murdered.

"AHHH!" I yelled in fear.

Emily jumped up.

"What?" She screamed in panic.

"YOUR DAD JUST PULLED IN!" I hollered.

"AHHHHH!" She screamed. She jumped off the bed.

"Oh my God! What are we going to do?" She ran to the bathroom and grabbed our clothes off the floor.

"MY BRA IS ON THE COUCH! AND MY SHIRT! AND YOURS! SHIT!" She started hyperventilating.

"At least I got to use my dick once." I glanced down at it. "Goodbye, old friend. I'm about to enter a world of humiliation and catheters!" I cried dramatically.

She grabbed the clothes and threw them on the bed. Then she threw the door open and took off running, completely naked, into the living room. I heard a crash and she returned seconds later, both ours shirts and her bra in her hand.

The door opened. Voices drifted in.

"Emily?"

"Oh my…look at the mud!"

Emily slammed the door shut and locked it. I quickly pulled my boxers and jeans and shirt on so fast I'm surprised I didn't injure myself. Footsteps started toward us. Emily threw her bra on and quickly buttoned her shirt, skipping a few on accident. She quickly yanked her shorts on, completely forgetting to put her underwear and white tanktop on. I grabbed them and quickly balled them each up, shoving them in a pocket.

I quickly sat on the floor, pretending to be on my cell phone. Emily unlocked the door and then lay on the bed like she was sleeping.

I thought we were out of the woods.

Until.

I saw the used condom and the condom wrapper sitting innocuously on the floor.

I stared at them, dumbfounded, not sure what to do. I grabbed them and then made a beeline for the bathroom. I shut the door and locked it, throwing them in the toilet. I flushed it. I stared at it as it swirled down and then breathed a sigh of relief as the toilet gurgled and then swallowed them.

"Emily?" Oliver asked. I heard him open the door.

"Oh, hi Daddy. I was just sleeping. How was your doctor's appointment?" She asked.

I turned the sink on and washed my hands, hoping they'd just believe I just got out of the bathroom.

"The doctor says beautiful Olivia is doing just fine." Claire said, pride in her voice.

Oliver was silent. He was definitely suspicious.

"Why is there mud in my house?" He asked.

Emily faltered.

I exited the bathroom.

"We saw a dog outside during the storm and we thought it was hurt so we went out to help it. But it turns out it was just three-legged and there was nothing we could do. Then we came back inside. We meant to clean up the mud, but we fell asleep. And by that I mean Emily slept here and I slept on the couch. And uh…we're going to clean it up right now!"

Emily's lips were twitching at three-legged dog, but by the time I got to the end of my rant, she burst into slightly-evil sounding laughter.

I wasn't sure what to say then.

"Your daughter is great in bed, Oliver." Not quite.

"Your daughter has a way with words…and her hands." Definitely not.

"I…have to go…call my grandma."

Emily jumped up. "Me too!"

Oliver was confused.

Claire walked over and pulled the curtains shut.

"Emily, honey, did you sleep with those open? You wouldn't want some man seeing you in your bedclothes."

Oh shit.

Was that open the entire night?

"They saw more than that." I muttered before I could stop it.

Oliver spun around.

"_What _did you just say, boy?" He growled.

I can't explain how badly I wanted to show him up right now. But I respected Emily too much to do that.

"What?" I asked him innocently.

"What did you just say?" He asked again.

"What?"

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Bertha is the name of a cow."

"_What_?"

"What?"


	16. Anything

**A/n: **Sorry for the wait! Actually, I don't remember if it was a long wait or not though...I'm on summer break, so all my days blend together haha. But I'm sorry if it was! I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. It didn't want to come. (that'swhatshesaid). Hi. Anyway. I hope it turned out alright. Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one :)

* * *

**"I was so high I did not recognize the fire burning in her eyes." - Maroon 5, "This Love"**

**"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." - James Baldwin  
**

Caitlyn's grandfather always cleaned up the pieces.

He lent credit cards when they were in the hole financially. He lent emotional support when her mother was teetering on the edge. And now he was lending his hand, because her mother fell harder than usual and needed professional help to get back up.

Caitlyn sat away from her mother in the white room. Alyssa held tight to her father's hand, her eyes wide and emotionless. Caitlyn watched them and wondered what it felt like to have a father who would hold your hand, or come to your rescue, or even give a damn about you at all.

The psychiatric hospital was a maze of white hallways, white uniforms, and white talk. The words were empty and hollow and meant only to appease the insane. Alyssa's father—an accomplished psychiatrist—talked quietly with her, his face professional, but his eyes grinding down to nothing but dark sorrow. Caitlyn could read all his thoughts on his face: _what did that man do to my daughter?_

Anthony Mongelli patted his daughter's hand and stood up from the stool he was sitting on. Caitlyn stared into his white coat as he walked over and sat down beside her on the metal bench against the wall. He was quiet for a while, allowing them to both sit in a comfortable silence.

He spoke. "I know you don't know me that well, but you don't need to sleep here. Alyssa won't be leaving this hospital for a while. She's had a complete psychotic break. Come stay with me."

She looked up at the grandfather she never really got to know and felt anger at her mother. She stayed with her piece of shit father who treated everyone like they were worthless, she kept Caitlyn away from her grandfather, a man who probably would have been like a father to her, and she left Caitlyn all by herself to deal with this mess. At that moment, she didn't love her mother at all. She didn't care at all. Maybe she was more like her father than she thought.

"Is there a grandmother in the picture?" Caitlyn asked. She didn't much entertain the idea of a fussy grandmother who would remind her to pray every night. She didn't much enjoy the company of women in general.

Anthony smiled, the wrinkles carved in his forehead deepening. "No. Alyssa's mother and I divorced a while ago."

Caitlyn smiled. "Good. Marriage is just a set up for unhappiness."

Anthony's smile faltered and he kept his eyes on his granddaughter. His heart ached and his hopes plummeted. He shook his head.

"You're not much like my daughter, are you?"

Caitlyn glanced back at the pale figure on the bed. "I wouldn't know. She's never been the girl you remember around me."

Anthony stood up abruptly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, avoiding glancing at the woman who was nothing like the child he raised. How could someone who was half of him end up like that? How did he let it happen? How did his daughter become his patient?

But he knew how. The proof of the reason's existence was sitting right in front of him.

Caitlyn pulled her hair back into a ponytail and stood up. She felt confident and in control. She touched her abdomen lightly.

"Anthony."

He glanced up, a little surprised at the way he was addressed by his granddaughter.

"Yes?" He finally asked.

"I need a favor." She said.

He nodded. "Sure, honey. What do you need?"

She laced her hands together and thought about a different man's ocean eyes. She didn't have his ring on any of her fingers, but she was sure she had something of his that was much solider. Something that she couldn't just take off and wash down the drain. Something permanent. Something that would make him hers forever.

"I need a pregnancy test."

* * *

**COLE'S POV:**

I felt cheated of time with Emily.

I had been looking forward to just holding her the whole day. I wanted to talk to her, to laugh with her. Instead, I get to clean up mud with her under the watchful eye of her overprotective father.

My heart seemed lodged up near my tonsils and every time I looked at her, I just wanted to grab her and kiss her. She caught my eye and smiled at me a lot, her cheeks colored and her eyes sparkling. I smiled back and she would inch closer, shooting a look at Oliver (who was reading an instruction manual between suspicious glances at us), before closing the too-large gap between us. She caught my eye as she was scrapping mud out from between the tiles with her fingernail. She wiped the mud on a rag and we shared a look so secretive that I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. My heart and lips were heavy with words that I really wanted to say, but definitely couldn't in front of Oliver. I shot a glance at him and scooted over beside her, pretending to help her get a really stubborn stain out of a tile, but really just needing to touch her hand. She dropped the sponge and turned her soapy hand over, grasping mine that was on top of hers. We locked our fingers together and she stretched her neck up, kissing me on the cheek and then on the mouth. I don't know if I've ever loved her as much as I did then.

The sharp sound of the paper booklet being slapped on the table jerked her away from me.

Oliver glared.

"Trying to feel up my daughter right in front of me, I see. You have no sense of morals." Oliver scolded. He stood up. "I've told you this a million times. Cole, I want you here," he motioned at a spot all the way across the kitchen, "working on this side of the mud stain. And Emily, you stay right there, working on that side."

I dropped her hand and stood up, walking back over to my side of the mud mess. But he couldn't keep us apart for too long, because eventually we'd meet in the middle. Emily realized that around the same time I did, and we cleaned faster than we were before. I was not good at cleaning, though, so it took a while.

We were both kneeling for what felt like hours, scrubbing away at the stained tiles. We scooted forward toward the middle with every row of tiles that were cleaned, and by the time there was only a sliver in the middle left, we fell back on our calves. Our knees touched and my skin tingled. We split the line of tiles in half but I have to admit I did more watching her clean than I cleaned myself.

Oliver stood back up.

"Well, that looks better. Now, you get to clean the shower!"

He grabbed the bucket and Emily and I set our sponges in it. He carried it toward the bathroom, obviously assuming we were right behind him. I helped Emily stand up. We both had soapy water all over our clothes. Emily's blouse was still buttoned incorrectly. She missed about three of them.

I pressed a finger in the gap that wasn't buttoned. My finger touched the skin under her bra and she jumped slightly. I automatically felt heat creep along the surface of my skin and I could tell by her hitched breathing that she did too. We really had great sexual chemistry. I always knew we would.

"Your shirt is buttoned wrong." I whispered, a grin taking over my face. She blushed and I moved my hand. She caught it and pressed it to her cheek.

"Your hands are warm." She muttered happily. I snaked a hand up the back of her shirt and she leaned into me, sighing in content as I spread my fingers so my hand was covering some of the skin on her back.

"HEY! STOP THAT!" Oliver screeched. He started snapping his fingers in my face. "BAD!"

I slowly pulled back from Emily, glaring at him with as much venom as I had. He just keeps on butting in. Except last night. The fact we got away with having sex for the first time under his roof filled me with an evil and vengeful happiness when he pissed me off.

I reluctantly withdrew my hands and stepped back from her. Emily glared at her father.

"Daddy! Would you stop already? I'm marrying him! I think it's okay for us to hug!"

Oliver rubbed his temples like he had a headache. "Let's please just clean the shower."

He motioned for us to walk toward the bathroom. He followed behind us, most likely making sure we weren't going to touch each other again. _God_ _forbid_ we HUG…

Emily and I awkwardly stepped into the bathroom, quite aware of what went on the last time we did. Oliver stepped in behind us and sat on the counter, motioning for us to get to work. I picked up the bucket and set it on the edge of the bathtub. Emily climbed in and I did also. Oliver started to object, but I yanked the curtain closed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Oliver asked, ripping the curtain back open. I stared into his livid face.

"Having sex. Obviously." I said sarcastically. I grabbed the curtain and shut it again.

There was a pause.

Oliver pulled it back.

"That is _not_ funny." He growled.

He sat on the edge of the tub, securing the shower curtain so it couldn't conceal Emily and I. She wordlessly stooped down and started cleaning the mud off the bottom of the tub. I stepped out of it while she ran the water and washed the mud down the drain. Once she was done, she threw the sponge into the bucket. The water splashed up on Oliver's arm.

"Now was it really that big of a deal?" She snapped at him. He looked at her in shock. If I wouldn't have already know how fed up she was with putting up with everyone's shit, I would have been shocked too.

He softened in a way that was familiar. His shoulders curved downward and he seemed to deflate.

A guilty look crossed her face. She glanced at me in horror and I didn't know how to help her. She wanted to be someone she wasn't. She was just a nice person. That's just how she was. That's all her conscience would let her be. She couldn't be someone who put her feelings in front of others, even though I wish she could, for her own good. She used to know the balance it required to be a nice person but not take any shit, but she lost it when she lost her confidence. I guess she was just trying really hard to get herself back to the way she was.

She cautiously sat down beside Oliver and I excused myself from the bathroom. I wandered into the living room and sat in an armchair.

Emily walked into the living room a few minutes later. She wordlessly fell down into my lap. I held her and no words were exchanged because they didn't have to be. A few minutes passed.

"Do you want to leave?" I asked.

She nodded. "I need to change clothes first, though."

I imagine it wouldn't be too great of an idea for her to go out in public sans underwear. She stood up and went to her bedroom to change. She had actually remembered to bring a change of clothes. Oops. She came back a few moments later in white, cotton shorts and a red t-shirt.

I took her hand and we left the house. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is go.

* * *

The car was burning up under the hot glare of the sun. The leather seats seared my legs through my muddy jeans. Emily perched herself carefully on the edge of the seat, preventing the leather from touching her bare legs. I could tell just by looking at her that she didn't want to talk about what just happened. She just wanted to forget it so she wouldn't feel guilty, even though she didn't need to feel bad for telling Oliver off. God knows somebody needs to.

I started the car and quickly got the air going so the seats would simmer down. Once I was out of Oliver's driveway, I felt a lot safer. He's kind of frightening.

I glanced at Emily at the same time she glanced at me. I smiled and looked back at the road. I could feel her smile.

"So, how do you feel?" I finally asked. I hadn't had a chance to really talk to her about last night. Stupid Oliver. He's such a nuisance. Like a spider that just needs to be stomped on.

She slid back in the seat now that it was cooled down. She pulled her legs to her chest. I glanced at her again, not satisfied with trusting my peripheral vision. She looked content.

"Emotionally or physically?" She asked.

"Both." I replied.

She leaned forward and turned the air up a bit. When the air hit her hair full force, the smell of her shampoo filled the entire car. I found it to be the most calming scent in the world.

"I am really happy." She said, and I could tell it was true. "I can't believe I spent months worrying about you seeing me naked. You wouldn't believe how much sleep I lost over it. And there was no reason to. You wouldn't believe how relieved I feel now. I feel like a ton of weight has been taken off my shoulders." She glanced at me and I met her eyes. A slight blush made its way on her face. "And if I would have known sex felt that good, I would have done it a long time ago!"

I immediately started laughing and she giggled along with me. She reached over the gap between our seats and grabbed my right hand. I kept my left on the steering wheel and joined my right with hers. I squeezed her hand.

"It's just so weird to think that I'm not a virgin anymore. Weird, but exciting. I'm pretty sure that was the most badass thing I've ever done in my entire life." She glanced at me thoughtfully. "I like it."

I laughed again. "Trust me, I like it too."

She smiled and leaned her head back against the seat.

"So did it hurt?" I asked.

"When I fell from Heaven?" She joked.

"Oh come on, I'd never use that horrible pick up line! Do your feet hurt?"

She looked confused. "No…why?"

"Because you've been walking around my mind all day."

She groaned and I couldn't stop laughing. "That's the worst!" She complained. But she fell into laughter too and we must have laughed for felt like two minutes. We're such losers.

Once I had my laughter under control, I glanced at her. "But seriously. Did it?"

She grinned. "Maybeeee..."

I worked to keep a smile off my face. I pulled into a department store parking lot and put the car in park, turning to look at her. I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you playing games with me?" I asked.

She blinked innocently and bit her lip to keep from smiling. I leaned over and set a hand on her stomach.

"Don't make me tickle you." I warned.

She burst into laughter before I even pushed my hand up her shirt. She leaned against me while she laughed. I realized to an onlooker, it would look like she was crying.

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes, breathing deeply to slow her laughter. She grabbed her hairbrush out of the glove compartment and ran it through her hair.

"It hurt a lot at first but it got better, obviously." She finally answered. She set the brush back in the compartment and shook her hair out.

I glared. "I told you to tell me if it hurt."

"I just did, didn't I?" She asked. I sighed.

"How do you feel now?" I asked again.

"Sore." She appeared thoughtful. "And muscles I didn't even know I had hurt."

"You'll probably feel better by dinner time." Hopefully, or I'd feel guilty…

"Definitely. But now, I need you to drop me off at dance."

I frowned.

"Oh. I kind of wanted to hide from life today."

She sat up and set her feet back on the floor of the car. She pulled her hair over in front of her right shoulder.

"I need to go today. After all, I'm dropping out of dance after this upcoming recital." She said casually.

Silence slithered into the car.

"You're quitting ballet?" I finally asked. That wasn't like her. She's been dancing for as long as I've known her. She loves it. Why would she quit?

She pulled her shoulders back and held her neck straight. She looked out the window.

"I'm not quitting ballet. I'm quitting the academy. Because I am not taking it anymore." She turned to look at me. "I'm going to work at Claire's studio part time. That way I still get practice before we go to New York."

I grinned. I set a hand on her forearm and pulled her into my arms. I smoothed a hand down her soft hair and kissed her.

"I think that's a fantastic idea. I only have one question."

She looked at me curiously.

"Can I please be there when you tell her off?"

She smiled slyly. "Oh don't worry, you will be there."

"What?"

"I'm letting her know I quit right after our next recital. There will be plenty of people around."

"Badass!" I exclaimed, impressed.

She blushed. "I try."

I started the car and we listened to the radio the rest of the way to the dance studio. She hesitated before getting out of the car.

"I'm meeting my mother today for lunch." She said.

The sun brought out magnificent colors in her hair. Her lips were pursed tightly in worry. I pulled her into my arms.

"Good luck." I said. "It will be fine."

She pulled back and smiled.

"Thank you. The restaurant is just down the block, so I'll just walk. And I think I'll catch a ride home with her, as long as things go alright, so you don't have to drive out here to pick me up."

I nodded. "My phone's on if you need to me to get you."

She nodded and stepped out of the car. She held onto the door and hesitated again. She smiled shyly.

"I don't really want to go." She admitted.

I smiled back.

"I don't really want you to go either."

She reluctantly slid her hands off the metal door. She took a hesitant step back from the car. She clasped her hands.

"I love you. I'll see you later." She said. She stepped back on the sidewalk.

"I love you too."

She forced herself around and she walked into the academy. I really hated to be without her, but I did love watching her leave. She walked with a cute but somehow sexy swing in her hips and I loved it a lot.

I wasn't going back to sit in that stupid shop.

Emily and I were getting married soon, and I needed to stop living in a dream world. If not for me, for her.

I went back to the apartment and changed out of my stained clothes. I went back into town and began searching for help wanted signs in windows. If I had to work at a fast food restaurant, so be it.

I was starting to realize that I would do anything for her.

* * *

**MILEY'S POV: **

When you spend more than ten years with someone, it's inevitable that you'll argue sometimes.

If those ten years are spent with a _spouse, _it is actually impossible to completely avoid fights. If you show me a couple that's been married for more than five years and never had a fight, I'll show you two liars.

Jake and I didn't argue a lot. We hardly ever did. We disagreed about things all the time, but we kept those disagreements from escalating into fights by agreeing to agree to disagree and only argue about things that are worth it.

But every now and then, we disagreed over important things, things worth fighting over. And that is where the problems arose. Recently, we've been arguing over two things: Odette's desire to act and birth control. These two were obviously important issues, and therefore, when Jake brought up a role open in a movie that Odette could audition for, it had to be talked through.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked.

I listened to the twins' laughter from their bedroom. I opened the oven and carefully slid the pan in it. I shut it and wiped my hands on a dishcloth, contemplating the best way to answer. I pulled out a stool in front of the island and sat in it. Jake sat beside me.

"I really don't feel comfortable with our daughter being a child star." I finally answered. So many of them end up on drugs and pregnant by the time they are twenty. I know Jake turned out okay, but he's literally like the only one. Not to mention, the media is all about sex. Children are exposed to more and more these days and preteens are made out to be sexual objects. I don't want Odette growing up around all that. We never had to worry about this with Cole, because he never had any desire to act or model or sing. He just wanted to be a normal kid, which made me very happy. But now we had Odette, the star child. Everything she did was for an audience.

"I know. But she wants it. A lot. And I turned out alright." He stared evenly at me, his green eyes clear and sincere. I set my hands on his cheeks.

"She is my baby." I whispered. "I don't want her going through that. I don't want her to have to deal with being famous. I want her to have a normal childhood. I want her to be able to go to the beach without having paparazzi follow her. I want her to have fun."

He set his hands over mine and pulled them off his face. He held them and kissed them and then kissed me. He kept his grip on my hands, as if to force me to hear him out.

"She will have fun, because she'll be doing what she loves. And she won't ever have a truly normal life because of us." He argued.

I pulled my hands out of his. "I can get around unnoticed very well these days. I hardly ever get bothered when I go places with the girls. And we don't get _that_ bothered when we go places as a family."

He spread his hands out on the island.

"But we could handle the publicity if she were to be in movies. We could keep it under control."

I started shaking my head before he was even done talking. "We couldn't, Jake. You know how insane it gets. I don't want her to grow up that fast. I'm all for letting her explore acting. We'll get her involved in theaters. But not movies. Not yet."

He frowned. "Don't you think we should at least ask her what she thinks?"

"She's not even five yet, she can't make that kind of decision."

The timer beeped and I jumped out of the chair. I grabbed the oven mitt and opened the oven. I pulled the pan out and set it on the stovetop and let the oven door slam shut. The cookies were kind of burned on the sides. Darn. I'm still not any better at this cooking and baking thing, but not for lack of trying. I've been baking for weeks almost every day attempting to learn how to do it satisfactory so when the twins brought cupcakes to school for parties they didn't taste bad. But it wasn't going too well. All I was achieving was extra hours on the treadmill.

"I just think you should consider it, Miley. It's what she wants. She's an _actress. _I can just tell. It's what she's meant to do." Jake demanded. He walked over and grabbed a cookie. He bit into it and I stared at his face. His eyes twitched for a moment and his nose scrunched up, but he quickly took control over his facial expressions to hide his disgust from me. Too late. I already knew they tasted bad.

"Dammit!" I screamed. I ripped the oven mitt off my hand and threw it angrily on the counter. I grabbed one myself and bit into it. I immediately started coughing. They tasted _nasty._ Like burnt rubber almost. I threw it away and spit what was in my mouth into the trashcan. My eyes were watering from the disgusting taste. I've had a lot of things in my mouth, but that was definitely the worst tasting.

Once my eyes stopped watering and I stopped gagging and coughing, I turned back to Jake.

He looked amused.

"Delicious cookies." He grinned.

I gripped the island for support as I tried to catch my breath. I glared at him. "Shut. Up."

He widened his eyes in innocence. "What? I'm serious. They are yummy. Very scrumptious."

I grabbed two. "Then why don't you eat some more?" I smiled.

He backed up. "Umm, because I'm trying to watch my figure. I have to keep my hot body up to standards."

I stopped in front of him. "Mmmhmm. PAINT! COME HERE BOY!"

I grabbed the pan while I waited for Paint to enter the kitchen. I scrapped the cookies into his dog bowl.

Jake snorted. "Are you kidding me? He eats one-hundred dollar dog food! He is not going to eat those."

I set the pan on the counter. "He's a _dog. _He'll eat anything."

Paint trotted into the room happily. I kneeled down.

"Look, Paint! Yummy cookies!" I cooed. He took off running to his dog bowl. He slid across the floor and shoved his face in the dog bowl.

He immediately backed up in fear, whining.

Jake laughed so hard he fell on the floor.

I stared at Paint hunched over with an insulted expression on his face, and Jake rolling all over the floor, and decided I was a lost cause. The twins are getting supermarket cupcakes and cookies.

Jake fell still on the floor after a few minutes. He fought the occasional laugh. "I think you just ate your own words. Tell me, did they taste as nasty as those cookies?"

I smiled at him. "Okay, Jake. You win this round. I guess I can't beat the champion."

He sat up. "Damn right!"

I backed up toward Paint's dog bowl.

"Look at that giant seagull!" I screamed. I pointed at the window. Jake turned. I kneeled down and grabbed a cookie out of the bowl. Jake looked back at me.

"I didn't see anything…"

I shrugged. "Too slow I guess."

A silence drifted in.

And then I lunged.

My body knocked into his and he fell back on the floor. I shoved the cookie into his mouth and restrained his arms. He freaked out and pulled his arms free. He pushed me off him and frantically spit out the cookie.

"NASTY! NASTY! NASTY!" He stopped suddenly, looking at me. He closed his mouth slowly. "…I mean…yum! Cookie…?" He chewed what was left and swallowed it, a smile on his face and pain in his eyes.

"Nice try, Ryan. But not quite."

He sighed. "I'm really sorry, but you can't cook. At all. However, don't be upset about that because you do many other things amazingly!"

He grinned widely and it wasn't hard to guess what "other things" he was referring to. Pervert.

We were reminded of our previous argument when the twins entered the kitchen.

"Mommy!" Odette whined. "Why does Paint get cookies and not us?"

She started over to the dog bowl.

"NO! NOT THE CHILD!" Jake screamed. "Don't eat those!"

Odette rolled her eyes. "Daddy, you are a drama king." She flicked her thin, blonde hair over her shoulder and grabbed a cookie out of Paint's bowl. He immediately stood up and walked over to her, nudging her hand with his nose.

Adeline giggled. "Odette is silly. We don't eat Mommy's cookies."

Jake started laughing again and Adeline giggled along. He stood up and pulled her up into his arms, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. Odette dropped the cookie back in the bowl.

"Oh yeah. Grandma said they were _tocic_." She nodded.

"Toxic?" I asked. That woman is such a bitch. She's the toxic one, not my cookies. Well…maybe they were.

"Yeah. That." Odette said.

Jake set Adeline down and turned to Odette. I shook my head at him. But of course he did it anyway.

"Odette, would you like to be in a movie?" He asked.

Odette's eyes lit up. She gasped and walked over to Jake. "A movie? I could be in a movie? Like you are?"

Jake nodded slowly and picked her up. She was almost a spitting image, inside and out. She clung to her father and looked at him with eyes so trustful you would have thought he was God.

She smiled so happily my heart broke. "I'd like that so much, Daddy! I can finally be a real star!"

Jake is a jackass. We were supposed to make this situation together. He can't promise something like that to Odette when we haven't both agreed. That is so low.

Odette lay her head on Jake's shoulder, happiness radiating off her. I am going to kill him.

"Adeline, Odette, go back and play for a little while more, okay?" I said. Adeline stood up from the floor (she was playing with Paint) and obediently ran toward her room. Odette seemed reluctant.

"But I need to practice for my movie." She argued.

I pried her off Jake and set her down.

"We can practice later, honey."

She sighed but left. I spun around to look at Jake.

"Want to tell me what that was?" I snapped.

"I was just asking her opinion." He said. He sat back down at the island.

"You got her hopes up! You saw how happy she got!" I hissed.

He looked at me pointedly. "Exactly."

I sighed and sat down in the seat beside him. I rested my forehead against my hand.

"I know it'd make her happy, Jake. But I honestly think that having a normal childhood would make her happier in the long run."

"I had a great childhood." He said.

I leaned forward. "Compared to what?"

He didn't say anything.

"How do your childhood memories stack up compared to someone who had a normal childhood? I bet most of yours are of camera flashes, dressing rooms, and publicity. Am I right?" I asked.

He leaned forward too. "I was happy. I was doing what I loved."

"You were a _child_. You shouldn't have had to worry about what you were meant to do or anything like that. I don't want Odette having a job before she's even six. I want her to be a child." I muttered.

He sighed. "How are we going to reach an agreement with this?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He stared out the window while he thought. He looked back at me. "Okay. We forget about her being in movies until she's thirteen. But after that point, she gets to make her own decision."

I ran that through my mind. I nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

"Are you going to break the news to her?"

"No way! You get to do that because you are the one who offered that to her before we finished taking about it!" I exclaimed.

He sighed sadly. "Fine."

I leaned back in my seat. "If only we could reach such a civil agreement with the other issue."

He grimaced. "I stand firm on my side of that issue."

The problem was birth control. I didn't trust the pill. Women get pregnant all the time while on the pill, and an unplanned pregnancy right now would not be ideal. We didn't want any more children. So I suggested to Jake that I should get a tubal ligation, and he completely went insane. You would have thought I asked him to get a vasectomy or something (which I didn't because I knew he'd probably have a stroke if the doctor came at him with a scalpel). He went on this rant about how it was very dangerous for me to have another surgery and that they aren't one-hundred percent effective. Then I said something about just getting my entire uterus removed. He kept going on about how "permanent" that is and how "extreme" it is to get an organ removed when I can just take the pill. I tried to explain to him that the pill isn't always effective and after about five minutes of lecturing, he reluctantly offered to wear a condom each time, but that's just unnecessary when I could just get a permanent solution.

I folded my leg under me. "Jake?"

He glanced at me. I examined his face carefully before I asked my next question.

"Do you want another child?"

His eyes flashed with a hidden emotion, but he quickly masked it.

"Frankly, I don't think I could _handle _another child!" He exclaimed, laughing nervously. And completely avoiding my question.

"Because you seem very upset about the idea of _permanent _birth control." I pushed.

He stared at me for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He parted his lips a few times, attempting to speak, but clamped them shut when he realized those words weren't the right ones. Finally, he grasped them.

"I don't want another child right now. But what if one day we decide we do? It'll be impossible." He said.

I shut my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, he was staring at me with an almost guilty expression on his face.

"Jake. It's already impossible." I whispered.

His face slipped.

"No it's not." He argued.

"Yes. It is."

"Then why do you need to get surgery?" He insisted. "If it's impossible, why sacrifice the time and pain to get the operation?"

"Just to make sure." I said. But he did have a point. Either way, there would most likely be no more babies. I'd just like that "most likely" to be changed to an absolute "would not".

He was interrupted by the doorbell. I slid off the chair and walked through the kitchen and living room. I opened the door.

A short woman with graying hair and too much make up grinned up at me. She looked like she was in her early fifties. For some reason, her face looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. I smiled back at her.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

She nodded. "I was wondering if I could speak with Cole Ryan?"

The fact that I couldn't just yell up to his room for him still made me sad. Your children are supposed to be with you. But he wasn't. I was lucky if I saw him once every two or three days. He stopped coming for lunch every day and he was terrible about answering his phone. It was mildly depressing.

"He doesn't live here anymore." I hesitated. My gut reaction was to demand why she wanted to see him, but that seemed a little nosy. But at the same time, I didn't want to just give out his address to random people. I'm a little suspicious of everyone after all I'd been through. "May I ask who is looking for him?"

She smiled even wider. "I suppose you don't recognize me. I don't recognize myself sometimes too. I wake up and I look in the mirror and I think 'who is that old woman?'. I guess it's going to take some getting used to. I'm Mrs. Vera. I was Cole's art teacher in elementary school."

That's why she looked familiar. Mrs. Vera was the only teacher Cole mildly liked in elementary school (mainly because she was the only one who didn't yell at him for "doodling").

She continued.

"I'm leaving for two weeks to fly to Washington because my daughter is having her first child, and I needed to find someone to substitute for my class. Normally they pull a sub off the list, but I don't want some artistically-challenged person teaching my students for two weeks. Because I've got seniority at the school, I can pretty much tell them who I want to use as a sub and they'll let me, as long as the person has graduated high school. Anyway, I was trying to think of someone to call, and I was going through pictures of old student's artwork at the time, and I came across a painting of Cole's, and I just knew I had to ask him. He was one of the sweetest and most talented students I've ever had. You have a wonderful boy."

I smiled. "Thank you. I'm pretty sure he'll be very interested in that. He's fantastic with kids—his sisters are _crazy _about him. If you have a minute, I can write down his address and phone number for you." I offered. She nodded. I stepped back in the house and once she stepped in after me, I shut it. She followed me into the kitchen.

Jake was thankfully being normal when we walked in. He was sitting at the table reading through his script. He glanced up.

"Hi?"

I glared at him. Way to be rude.

"Jake, you remember Mrs. Vera? Cole's art teacher from elementary school?" I waked over to the counter and pulled a pad of post it notes and a pen out of the drawer. Jake nodded slowly.

"Yes. Definitely. How are you? It's been a while."

He did not remember her.

"Fine, how about you? I absolutely adored _Oogenesis_. It was one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen in my life. Your portrayal of Tate was nothing short of an artistic miracle."

I could almost hear his ego growing. "You hear that, Miley? I'm an artistic miracle." Jake gloated.

I kept my eyes on the pad as I wrote Cole's address and phone number down. "That's great, honey." I sighed.

Mrs. Vera and Jake began an excited conversation about his movie. They were interrupted by the twins.

Adeline smiled at her and Odette stopped in her tracks. She turned to me.

"Mommy, why is there a stranger in our house?"

* * *

**EMILY'S POV: **

I had just changed into my costume for dress rehearsal and was in the process of putting my shoes on when Angie burst into the dressing room, tears streaming down her face.

I let the silky ribbons of my ballet shoes slide through my hands and they fell to the floor. Her red hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail and she was wearing pajamas. She walked over to me and I wasn't sure what to say.

"Angie, what's wrong?" I asked. The other girls were shooting odd looks at her. She wiped her cheeks and pressed her fingers to her eyes, as if to stop the tears from falling. She sat down on the bench and I hesitantly sat down beside her. Thankfully, the costume for the dance we were rehearsing today included a romantic tutu opposed to a platter or classical tutu. It's difficult to sit in those. Her shoulders shook and she didn't say anything for three minutes. When her crying subsided, she turned to look at me. Her eyes and nose were almost as red as her hair.

"Will you help me fix my hair?" She asked.

I stared at her for a moment, unsure of whether or not to push the matter, but I finally just nodded. She turned so her back was to me and I grabbed my hair brush. I pulled the rubber band out of her hair and ran the brush through it. We had to have our hair pulled back _perfectly _or the instructor freaked out. I had an idea of why she was crying. We talked on the phone a lot (she was quickly becoming my best friend) and she talked a lot about how her boyfriend could get really mean. I always asked her if he hit her, but she always said he didn't. I was finding that hard to believe.

Once her hair was pulled back in a secure bun, I carefully stuck the small, white flowers around the bun. Our costumes for this dance were fairly simple. We wore a spring green romantic tutu with an attached corset-like bodice in the same color (a romantic tutu was bell-shaped, free-flowing, about knee-length, and made of tulle netting) with white tights, our hair pulled back, and our ballet shoes. We normally did an actual ballet, but Ms. Sue—the current dance instructor—decided we should perform her choreographed dances instead. Last semester, when we still had Ms. Ball, we did Tchaikovsky's first ballet, Swan Lake. Ms. Ball picked me for the role of Odette, but quit abruptly before we even performed the play. Ms. Sue took her place and immediately attempted to make me a background character so her daughter could get the lead, but it was too late for her to switch the roles. It infuriated her that I wouldn't switch roles with her daughter and that I was the lead, and I'm pretty sure that's where her hatred for me stems from. I didn't regret not backing down though, no matter how much she verbally harassed me, because the five nights we put on that ballet were the best of my entire life. Odette was _thrilled_ to share a name with The Swan Princess and it was all she could talk about after the performance. Adeline loved it because it was a "princess dance". Cole seemed more impressed by how short the tutus were than anything else.

"There you go."

Angie turned back around on the bench. She started to stand up to grab her costume, but then she sat back down. She rested her face in her hands.

"What did Gabe do?" I whispered.

She glanced at me.

"It was stupid." She whispered. "It was so stupid. We fought over cell phone carriers. And somehow it escalated. I just had to leave. That's why I'm in my pajamas." She glanced down at her attire.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Angie was naturally optimistic and brave, but for some reason, she had a crippling weakness for Gabe. All the rules changed around him. And I didn't know how to help her. She was the one who helped _me_. We were just talking on the phone one day, and she said something along the lines of "why would anyone sit around and wait for something to change when they had the power to change it?". And it really got me thinking about my self-esteem and everything included under that.

I liked making people happy. It made me happy. But lately, it was like that desire to make others happy had extended to mean that I was also making myself miserable. I was constantly editing myself so I could fit into the molds other people made for me, and I was losing myself because of it. When I was with my dad, I was trying to be the good little girl he thought I was. I stayed in this dance program for Claire because she had decided I was the next Marie Taglioni and I didn't want to let her down. When I was here, I had to be whatever I was required to be to make it to the top. I molded myself for whoever I was with. Maybe there wasn't a real Emily, because I change myself so much. But maybe the real me is what I feel like when I'm alone, or when I'm dancing just for fun. I feel that way when I'm with Cole. I guess I'm just Emily with him.

"Do you need to stay with me tonight?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, I just need to shake it off. I'm sure things will be better once me and him cool down." She smiled and suddenly she was Angie again. "Thanks for listening."

"You know I'm here whenever you need to talk."

She laughed. "Yes, I do. I'm pretty sure you're the only person who doesn't get angry when I call you at four in the morning. You actually talk to me for hours. I appreciate it, a lot." Her grinned widened and she leaned toward me. "So, tell me about it."

About having sex for the first time? That can't be what she's talking about. I didn't tell anyone about that yet. But what else could she be referring to?

"About what?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm taking about. I see you finally did it. How was it?"

I felt heat creeping along the surface of my skin. "How in the world do you know?" I asked.

"I could tell by the way you were standing when I walked in."

The heat on my skin intensified. "_What does that mean?" _

Ms. Sue threw the door of the dressing room open.

"Oken! Thomaston! What are you doing? Do you think we have the time to just stand here, waiting for you?" She snapped.

We quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sue. We'll be right out. I promise we'll go fast. Emily is going to help me in my costume." Angie said. Ms. Sue glared at us.

"Ballet is not something to be mocked. It is technical and the rules should be followed to the T. I expect my ballerinas to follow _all _the rules, even mine." She growled. I longed to tell her I wasn't _her _ballerina, but I kept my mouth shut. A small part of me still wanted her to like me, a bigger part was terrified of her, and a hidden part wanted to save the screaming for the recital.

"Right, right, Ms. Sue. Our bad." Angie muttered.

Ms. Sue slammed the door shut.

Angie immediately returned to the previous topic.

"You were standing a bit bow-legged. Sore? Is he big?"

I blushed deeper. "_Angie_!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well? Is he?"

Yeah, but I don't think that's something people go around telling everyone…

"I can neither confirm nor deny." I said.

She snickered. "I'm taking that as a yes. Oh, and he's an artist. Good with his hands. I'm jealous. Gabe is a mechanic. He gets very rough and grabby. But I can take him. You know what's weird? He likes my _feet. _Most guys compliment their girls on their asses or tits, but he's always like 'oooh, Angie, you have beautiful feet!' I mean what _is _that?"

We both began giggling like schoolgirls. I doubled over, imaging her large boyfriend cradling her foot in his hands. She grabbed her costume off the rack so she could pull it on while talking.

"I have to get pedicures weekly to keep them looking nice. You know how gross they get after dancing all day." She pulled her tights on. "So what's Cole's vice?"

"Legs." I answered immediately. Which was lucky, because I didn't have breasts like Angie's. Growing up, I used to eat the crusts off bread as snacks because I once heard a rumor that they make your breasts grow. It was actually a lie. I consumed the carbohydrates for absolutely nothing.

"At least that's normal. I mean, Gabe likes my body of course, but there's just something about my feet!" She tripped stepping into her tutu. I sat on the floor and began pulling my Pointe ballet shoes on. I pulled the elastic band in front of my ankle. Then, I wrapped the left ribbon around my ankle twice. Then I grabbed the right ribbon and pulled it across my leg, repeating the previous action and making the two ribbons cross in the front to make an X. I tied the two ends of the ribbons together. Angie continued once she was in her costume. "So how was it?"

It was so easy to talk about it with Cole, but for some reason it was a lot harder with Angie. Normally, it'd be the opposite (or at least from what the other girls say). Maybe it was because I knew I could say anything to Cole and he wouldn't think badly of me. I felt like Angie might think I was a little strange if I went on a rant about how it went further than just the physical aspects. If I started talking about how I loved the way we were actually _one _person for a while, she might suggest I get admitted to a mental institution. But that was a big part of it. The fact that he was so sweet and cute about it, and the fact that I was so _relieved _that he didn't think I looked disgusting naked, and the way I just knew what he wanted and he knew what I wanted…it all combined to make it what it was. However, that was definitely not the answer Angie was looking for.

"I don't know much about sex, but it felt really good, so I'm guess that means it went well?" I asked.

She laughed. "Yeah, that means it went well. If you didn't have to ask "are you in yet?", or curl up in a ball and cry afterwards, it went well. And, like I said before, the fact that you're sore means he's big, which means you'll just have all the more fun once your body adjusts." She winked.

I felt my blush returning. "Do I really stand bowlegged? I'm not even that sore anymore. It's getting better." It's so embarrassing to think that everyone I see can tell. Oh my _God, _what if my _Dad _noticed? But he would have definitely said something if he did. He would have killed Cole.

She motioned for me to stand up. I carefully climbed to my feet in my shoes. She cocked her head to the left.

"A little, but you can hardly tell. Especially with your ballet shoes on, because your feet naturally point out in those. No worries. I just knew it was coming, so I was looking closely for any little sign."

She quickly sat down on the bench and tied her shoes. She continued talking as we walked toward the stage.

"So did anything else interesting happen to you besides being deflowered?" Her voice echoed loudly through the empty hallway.

"Shh!" I hissed.

She grinned.

"And…well…it happened at my dad's house." I whispered.

She laughed so loudly I'm sure Ms. Sue could hear it from the stage.

"I'm so proud of you." She cooed.

"My dad definitely wouldn't be…"

"I want to meet this infamous Oliver. Oh! I should come over for dinner, and then go 'Please, sir, can I have some more?'" She laughed. "Get it? Like from the musical _Oliver_?"

The door at the end of the hallway was thrown open.

"I swear to God, if you don't get your asses in here, I'm kicking you _both _out!" Ms. Sue screamed.

We quicken our pace.

"Or maybe this is _Annie_. She reminds me more and more of Ms. Hannigan each day…" Angie hissed.

* * *

The next three hours were filled with classical music, the whispers our ballet shoes made when dragged across the floor, the loud and hollow sound the shoes made on the wooden stage when we all rose and fell en Pointe, and Ms. Sue's screaming.

We were all extremely sweaty by the time she allowed us to go back to the dressing room, and many of the girls were limping, most likely due to using Pointe shoes that aren't fitted correctly for their feet. I've been using the same pair for eight years and I don't plan on getting new ones until these literally fall apart. My dad bought me a top of the line pair that cost two hundred dollars for my tenth birthday, and they were every bit worth the money.

The dressing room was a rush of loud sounds as the boxes (the wooden platform in the toe of the Pointe shoes) of the shoes clattered to the tile floor. The floor was filled with knotted up tights, tutus, and flowers in a matter of a minute.

Sharon fell down on the bench beside me. I pulled my shoes off and placed them in my duffel bag. I'd been leaving all my dance stuff in my locker lately because I haven't even wanted to _look_ at the shoes when I got home. Ms. Sue ruined dancing for me for a while. But now that I knew I was leaving soon, I felt more optimistic. Every time she screamed at me, I thought _I am leaving this for better things _over and over again until I just couldn't hear her anymore. She said I wasn't good enough, that I didn't look the part, but I made it into the New York City Ballet. She said I wasn't good enough, and maybe I wasn't for her, but I was for Cole, and for my father, and for the scouts in New York, and maybe that was enough.

Sharon massaged her arch. "I need a harder shank. My shoes are a little _too _flexible. My arch wasn't supported at all during that last dance."

I glanced at her shoes. The sole was peeling back and loose. "You might want to just buy a new pair. Your sole is coming loose." I pointed. She picked up the shoe and glanced at the bottom.

"Shit! This day just keeps getting better and better." She slammed her shoes down. "Oh, Gavin told me to tell you to tell Cole to stop ignoring him." She paused. "That was a mouthful. Apparently, Gavin's invited you two to go with us a million times and Cole isn't answering."

That wasn't like Cole.

"Wait, where are we supposed to go and who all is going?" I asked.

"To LA. A new restaurant opened and we all want to go try it out together, like a group thing. It would be me and Gavin, you and Cole, Michael and his girlfriend Caitlyn, Connor and Ellie, and a few other couples I don't really know." She explained.

And now it makes sense.

"We don't go anywhere Caitlyn goes." I told her.

She seemed confused. "Why? She's really fun."

I pulled my tights off. I rolled them up and stuffed them in my bag.

"It's a long story. She's psycho." I muttered.

Why do I still miss her?

* * *

Angie and the instructor had managed to keep my mind off lunch. But now that dance was over, my mind was free to think about things other than technique.

I don't know why I was so scared to know my mother. Just the thought of sitting at a table with her for an hour made my stomach hurt and my mind swim. I don't know if I was afraid that I wouldn't live up to her standards, or that she wouldn't live up to mine. I couldn't shake the idea that she had some notion of what she wanted her daughter to be, and that I didn't fit that. It was a ridiculous thing to worry about, because she left me. I should still be angry with her; I shouldn't care if she approves of me. But it all goes back to the fact that I like to be what others want me to be.

I sat down at the stuffy diner. I was ten minutes early. The walls were covered in black and white photographs and cheap chandeliers with plastic jewels hung from the ceiling. It was a low-class diner attempting to be high. I practiced steady breathing while waiting for her to arrive. My heart was pounding and I just wanted to run. Why did I ever agree to this? I knew why, though. I needed to know this part of myself.

She was five minutes early. Did I get my desire to be early from her?

She was wearing a white sun dress that was way too big for her. The straps kept slipping off her thin, leathery-tan shoulders and she reached up and fixed them. She had straightened her curls—_our curls, _I reminded myself—and her hair was thin, frizzy, and dejected. Gray mingled with blonde. She fixed her light eyes on me and she slid into the booth.

"Hi." She greeted. She smiled widely.

I forced myself to smile back. "Hey. How are you?"

She fumbled with the menu, her hands shaking slightly. She opened it and set it down in front of her, her eyes scanning uninterestedly over the options.

"Fine. I forgot how much I loved Malibu. I've been at the beach almost every day since I've been here. I missed it."

I swallowed and clasped my hands tightly under the table. I was afraid we wouldn't have anything to talk about. I was afraid we'd sit here in painful silence the entire time. And my fears seemed to be realized, because I just couldn't think of anything to talk about with her.

"It is nice." I finally said. I felt like I was suffocating under the fake chandeliers and her gaze.

She closed her menu. "When are you and Cole getting married?"

I instinctively fiddled with my engagement ring. "Some time in March. Probably before my birthday."

I wanted us to get married when we were still the same age, which meant we'd have to get married the very beginning of March. March tenth was off limits, because that was Miley and Jake's anniversary. March twelfth was my birthday, so I guessed we'd probably have to make it on the third.

She nodded. "So sometime before March twelfth."

I knew she only said that to prove to me that she did know my birthday. And I was surprised to realize that I wanted her there. I wanted her to see me walk down the aisle and I wanted her to see me get married. I wanted her to be a part of this memory because she couldn't be a part of any of the other ones.

I unrolled my silverware and placed my fork and spoon beside each other.

"Do you think you'll still be down here then?" I asked, avoiding her eyes.

I could almost feel her happiness. "I think so, yes."

I nodded. "Do you think you'd want to come?" I couldn't get the question to come out any louder than a whisper. My heart was beating even faster and it was making me nauseous. I risked a glance up. She was also avoiding my eyes, but I could have sworn I saw a tear in hers.

"I would. A lot." She finally said.

And I smiled.

She leaned forward. "I want to buy your dress."

Cole and I were very lucky. We had Miley and Jake, Alana and Jim, and my father who all fought over who got to buy us what. And now I had my _mother _offering to buy my dress. I kind of wanted to buy something myself. It didn't feel as wrong to let Miley and Jake buy it, because they had so much money they were probably number one on the Forbes list. However, I knew my mother probably didn't have that much money. I couldn't let her do that.

"Thank you, but I can't let you do that. I can't take your money." I said.

She met my eyes. "But I _want _to." She begged. "I want to be with you when you try them on and I want to buy it for you. It's the least I can do."

It really did seem to mean a lot to her. I nodded after a few seconds.

"Thank you." I said.

She smiled. "Thank _you_. For eating lunch with me. For letting me get to know you."

There isn't really much to know.

"Everyone makes mistakes." I said. "We all deserve a second chance."

We ordered lunch—she ordered a side salad for a meal and barely touched it—and we gradually found more and more things to talk about. It turns out she did ballet for ten years when she was a child. She asked me about my childhood and I was glad I had such good memories to share with her. She told me all about her little boy she had to leave with his father. His name was Paul and she said he reminded her of me. He was five, shy, but came alive when he was doing "card tricks" for people. For some reason, I found myself craving a relationship with the brother I never had. He sounded so adorable. She said once she got her act together (which she almost had) she would get him and the rest of her children back, and then he could be the ring bearer in my wedding. I liked that idea.

I had three other half-siblings along with Paul. I had a sixteen year old brother named Samuel, a fourteen year old sister named Lena, and a seven year old sister named Cora. They all lived with Lydia's mother, except Paul. I loved hearing about them. I think a part of me always yearned for a big family and many siblings.

Near the end of lunch, the same sharp pain that I felt at Miley's house began eating around my abdomen. It was just as bad this time, and I tried to hide it from Lydia, but I could hardly think with it, much less form a sentence.

She was concerned.

"Emily? Are you alright?"

I didn't know what could possibly be wrong with me, and that frightened me more than anything else. I pulled my knees up to my chest and I rested my forehead against my knees, breathing shallow. I felt even more nauseous. Lydia slid beside me in the booth. She hesitantly set a hand on my shoulder.

I started crying. I told her all about the pain and how it had happened before. She paid for our meal and helped me stand up.

"Come on, I'll take you home. You probably have an ovarian cyst."

The ride home was a daze. I leaned against the seat of her car and it smelled like cigarettes. She asked me my address and I didn't even remember telling it, but then she was helping me up the stairs. I handed her my key and she opened the door.

She wrapped an arm around me and helped me to the bed. She pulled my shoes off me and pulled the blankets over me like I was a small child. She sat beside me.

"My mother is a gynecologist. If you want, I can get you an appointment with her." She offered. "I'm betting Oliver hasn't ever taken you to one before, am I right?"

I nodded.

"Which means he hasn't offered to buy you birth control. You could get that too, if you go."

It was so surreal. I was lying in bed after being tucked in by my mother who smelled of peppermint and cigarettes and hairspray and broken dreams. She was talking about scheduling me my first appointment with a gynecologist and offering to get me birth control. Was this what I had missed?

The pain was continuous. She brought me water and pain medication and told me more stories about Paul and her other children. I missed Cole, but having this moment with my mother made me almost thankful for cysts.

She set a hand on my forehead. "You know, pain is actually good."

I opened my eyes. "How do you figure that?"

"If we didn't feel pain, we wouldn't know anything was wrong."

She smoothed my hair back like she'd been doing it my entire life.

"We wouldn't be able to fix the problem if we didn't know what it was."


	17. Morph

**A/n: **Thanks for the reviews! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Leave your opinions :)

* * *

**"Don't worry, babe, I've got your back. And I've also got your front." - Brad Paisley, "Ticks". **

**"And that one's kind of crazy, but that one is my baby." - Blake Shelton, "The Baby". **

For most of the day, I went all around town searching for place to apply. Pimply fifteen year olds clogged most of the fast food restaurants, so I didn't have much luck there. I applied for a job at a factory and the owner told me I could have the job if I really wanted it. He also gave me his brother's number; his brother was the operator of the carnival and they needed a caricature artist. All these potential-jobs made me a lot happier.

I liked doing the mature thing. I liked this because it was a true step toward making our apartment a home and making us a family. I liked it because I hadn't failed. If I had to work in that factory my entire life, until my tan fades and my back hunches over and my hands become calloused, I will still be happier than I was previously because at least with that I can support Emily. I can support her and anyone else that may come along during our life together.

I made it back to the apartment by three. I was about to get out of the car when my phone rang. I climbed out of the car and pulled it out of my pocket. I answered the call and shut my door, locking the car.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Cole Ryan?" A woman asked. Her voice was unfamiliar and I was beginning to get tired of women calling me. It used to be flattering that women were all over me, but now it was just annoying. And somehow, my disinterest made them even more interested. Like Caitlyn, for example. Crazy bitch. I mean honestly. I am not worth the effort she puts out. I looked good, but there are plenty of guys that probably look better. Ones that are less temperamental and not in love with a different girl.

"Yes..." I said hesitantly.

"Hi! This is Ms. Vera, your elementary school art teacher?"

I entered the building and climbed the stairs to the apartment while talking to my old teacher. Ms. Vera offered me _another _job. This day was going very well. This job was definitely at the top of my list. She wanted me to sub an art class. Now that I can do. I should have started looking for an actual job a lot sooner.

I opened the door and stepped into the comforting apartment. It smelled like Emily and paint and freshly washed clothes. I set my wallet and keys on the counter and was in the process of pulling my shirt off when I noticed someone was sitting at the table, and it was not Emily.

Emily's mother stood up. I froze and awkwardly lowered my shirt. Um, why is she randomly sitting in my kitchen without Emily? I glanced at the bathroom, convinced Emily must be in there, but the door was open. That is creepy…what if she sexually harasses me?

"Where's Emily?" I asked cautiously. I carefully scanned the kitchen and living room area again, but I didn't see her anywhere. Lydia wouldn't kill her own daughter, would she? I don't even _know _this woman…maybe it was a bad idea to encourage Emily to meet up with her alone. I wonder if she'd hesitate to kidnap her own daughter and sell her body into human trafficking. Oh my God. I'm going to faint and then throw up.

Lydia grabbed her purse and pushed the chair back in.

"She is very sick, so I took her here. She's in the bed. I was afraid to leave her alone so I waited here until you came back." She said.

My relief was short-lived. "Very sick? What's wrong with her?"

I was very glad she was helping Emily and not selling her into prostitution, though. That's very good. Lydia would probably make like a million off of her once the pimps or whatever found out she's a ballerina. Flexibility and all…why am I thinking about this?

Lydia walked up to me. She was kind of fidgety, but I didn't know if that was because of withdrawal from drugs or nervousness.

"She had severe abdominal pain."

Severe abdominal pain? Wow, that's descriptive. Thanks, Lydia. What the fuck. There's like a thousand things that could be. If a guy has abdominal pain it's either from hunger, appendicitis, the need to piss, or being kicked in the balls. If a girl has it, there's like a zillion things it could be. They have all these mysterious organs with complicated names in there that seem to fuck up all the time. Sometimes out in public I just hear girls randomly say "my ovaries hurt!" and it makes me really grateful I'm not a woman because I don't think I'd like it very much if my organs randomly started hurting. That's just so weird. You shouldn't be able to feel internal organs.

"Oh. Thanks for watching over her. Bye." I said. She nodded and walked out of the apartment. I waited until she was gone and then made my way down the small hallway and into the bedroom.

I gently pushed the door open. The lights were out and the curtains blocked out most of the sun except a few pale rays that filled the room. The ceiling fan was on and it definitely needed to be fixed because it was rocking precariously as it spun. Emily was curled up on her side under the covers. Her bent legs made a diagonal V and my eyes traced upward to the curve of her hips to the downward slope of her waist and then landed on her head that was hidden under the blanket. I gently sat down on the edge of my side of the bed. I pulled the covers back and pulled them over me, sliding across the soft sheets. I could see her back and the back of her head in the dim light under the blankets. I curved my body around hers, tucking my bent knees behind hers and resting my head on the top of her head, so my chest was against her back and her ass against my pelvic region (it was nice). I threaded my left hand in her hair and moved my right over her body so I could grasp one of her hands that were resting under her chin. Her hand was warm and she stirred slightly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. She leaned her head back so she could look at me. I stared down at her brown eyes and freckled nose and smiled. She smiled back weakly.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded once and leaned back into me, her head resting against my shoulder. I inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo and felt my own body hurting at her pain. When we were little, we almost always got sick at the same exact time. I don't know if that was because we automatically caught what each other had, or if we just had sympathy pain for the other. But it helped to know that we both felt the same thing.

I pressed my cheek to the top of her head and let my eyes shut. Her body against mine and the white noise of the fan soothed me. I knew something had to be done when I could feel her breathing quickening. She bent further into herself and an almost whimper-like sound came from her.

I pulled the blankets off of us. I sat up and pushed her curls back from her forehead.

"I think I should take you to the hospital." I said.

She immediately protested. "No. I don't need to." She muttered.

What if this had something to do with us having sex? What if she had some sort of medical disorder that made her experience pain every time she had sex? What if that's why she was afraid to have sex, but she was too embarrassed to tell me about it? That's not possible, right? If I did this to her, I'm going to shoot my hands off. Somehow. With my feet? Maybe.

I voiced my concerns to her. She shook her head. "This happened that night at your parents' house."

Well at least I knew it wasn't my fault. But that still didn't make it any better. I wracked my brains for idea of how to make her pain lessen.

I had an idea.

"Do you think a warm shower would help?" I asked helplessly. Her eyes were shut tightly and her mouth twisted in pain. She blindly reached up and set a hand on my thigh. She stroked her hand on it and I wondered if she even knew where she was touching me.

"I'll be fine." She whispered. "I can't stand up in the shower anyway."

I grasped her arm and gently pulled her up so she was sitting too. She pulled her knees to her chest and leaned against me. She rested her face against her knees, her dark curls spilling over her arms and down her back.

"How about a bath? I'll help you to the bathroom and I'll run it for you," I offered.

She nodded against her knees. I brushed my fingers through a strand of her hair and slid off the bed. I walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. I sat on the side of the bathtub and pushed the faucet up, worry almost as solid as the water that was pounding the bottom of the ceramic tub. I adjusted the temperature and placed the plug in place and let it fill.

I walked back into the bedroom and Emily was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her feet were resting on the floor—her toes pointed as if she were still dancing as they often stayed—and she was completely bent forward, her face resting against her thighs. I sat beside her.

"What do you think is causing it?" I asked.

She lifted her head up slightly.

"I'm not sure. Lydia said ovarian cysts."

I pretty much almost shit myself.

"Cysts? Like the cancerous ones?" I freaked out. She is not allowed to have Cancer. I couldn't handle that. I'm going to be so pissed at the world if she has Cancer. I'm gonna go postal. I will hit someone's face.

She laid her face back on her thighs.

"No, cysts aren't usually cancerous." She muttered. I set a hand on her back, over her spine. _Usually_? I don't appreciate that word. I _usually _don't have wet dreams. I _usually _don't secretly mix rum with my glass of Coke. Usually is _not _a word I trust with a Cancer diagnosis.

"You should go see a doctor." I said.

She seemed uncomfortable with that idea. She sat up. She had shadows under her eyes and her lips were pursed tightly. She shook her head once.

"No?" I was confused. "Why not?"

A little color returned to her face. "They…it's just not a very comfortable examination."

I assumed that meant it involved the shedding of clothing. One time I went to get a physical, and my doctor told me to take my pants off, and I thought she was definitely coming onto me. Then she grabbed my junk and told me to cough. It was very strange and awkward. She said she was "checking for a hernia" but I still don't know if I really believe that story. Just like how the female guard at the airport thought my wallet "looked like a gun" and tried to get me to take my clothes off. I'm onto these people. I know their game. But I definitely don't see that doctor anymore. I wonder what the female equivalent of that is. Whatever it is, I'm sure it isn't fun at all…well…let me rephrase that: I'm sure it might be fun if a doctor wasn't doing it. Like…if I was doing it for example. Most women would probably enjoy that, and I'm not even being egocentric. I'm being real. They all just want me naked and all over them. It's kind of odd.

"Well…sometimes, we have to get uncomfortable examinations." I argued gently. She slowly stood up; her body still hunched over a little.

"I'll be one-hundred percent better by dinner time. It'll be okay." She said with a tone that suggested that conversation was over.

I helped her into the bathroom and I hesitated at the door. I didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone, but I didn't know if she was completely okay with me seeing her naked again yet. She seemed to be unable to stand straight up. She had her palms pressed above her knees and she was bent over, pain solid in her breathing. I walked over and pulled the toilet seat lid down so she could sit. She fell back on the seat and I expected her to cry, but she didn't.

I turned the water off once the tub was full—the apartment had terrible water pressure so it took _forever _for it to full completely—and sat on the edge of it.

"I haven't been in so much pain since the month I spent rehearsing and performing Swan Lake," she grimaced. Every night when she came home from dance that month, I thought she was dying. She would stagger into the apartment and fall down onto the couch. When she took her sneakers off, I always had an urge to beg her to quit dance. I actually suggested it once, after she was in so much pain she finally cried—something most dancers refuse to do because if they admit how badly their feet are injured they are afraid they'll have to go to a podiatrist who will tell them to stop dancing—but she wouldn't hear of it. Her feet swelled so much she had to ice them for hours (she said it was due to the relentless "pas de bourrés"—whatever the hell those are. It reminded me of cordon bleu at the time. Now I'm hungry). Terrible blisters coated her feet (and still do). When we first started dating, I freaked the fuck out when she came over to swim and her toenail was completely split. I thought she'd dropped a bowling ball on it or something equally tragic, but she didn't even seem to notice and smiled and told me it was from dancing. She was always coming home with some kind of injury: sprained ankle, broken toe (that happened during our junior year. She refused to stop dancing on it), bruised toenails. But I'd gotten used to the bruised skin under her toenails and the red spots on the side of her feet where her ballet shoes rubbed. They went from injuries to just a part of who she was. It'd be weird to see her with perfect feet. Very strange.

"How can I help?" I asked.

She reached out for me and grabbed my hand. I wrapped my hand around hers and she pulled lightly on my arm. I stood up and she slid over on the lid so she was barely sitting on it. I sat down in the open space. She leaned against me and I wrapped an arm around her. She pressed her face against my shirt.

"Don't leave me." She requested.

I rubbed her arm. "Of course not."

I only have one question Jesus: does this mean I get to get in the bath with her? I think that it does. And that bathtub is thankfully not that big. I am loving God so much lately for the goodness he puts in my life. And by goodness, I mean naked girls and sex. Naturally.

She jokingly grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands in front of my eyes. I could only see slivers of the bathroom past my fingers, like the counter and the water in the bathtub. Definitely not a naked fiancée, which was the one thing I wanted to see.

"Close your eyes," she teased. She stood up and I could see her ankle and part of her calf when I looked down.

"Because I definitely haven't seen everything already." I said sarcastically.

I saw her shorts and underwear fall to the ground. I should move my hands. But that might be rude.

"Of course you haven't. That would be inappropriate, seeing as though we aren't married yet." She giggled and it just sounded so cute that I couldn't help it; I dropped my hands and reached out and wrapped my arms around her naked body, pulling her into my lap. She squealed and turned her face away from mine, but I caught her lips.

I had forgotten she was in pain until she attempted to pull her legs back up to her chest. I released her lips and we stood up. I held her arm as she tried to climb into the tub, letting my gaze linger for a second. Just looking at her naked form caused some intense body reactions. She flushed but didn't seem half as nervous as she was last night. She almost looked like she'd lost weight since then, but that wasn't possible, was it? I never paid attention to when she ate and when she didn't, but maybe I really did need to start paying attention to that. In health class in 9th grade, we watched this anorexia documentary all about ballerinas. It said something about how they are supposed to appear "weightless" and how they are criticized harshly (which I knew to be true for Emily) and how the mirrors they dance in front of force them to inspect their bodies for hours at a time and compare them with the other dancers, which are the main reasons why most of them develop eating disorders. I think I'm a bad boyfriend. A really bad one. I should have been worried about this and not when we were going to have sex.

I let her step into the tub. She sat down in the warm water and seemed to get instant relief from the warmth of the water. She reached for my hand again. I sat on the edge and grasped hers.

"You know I think you're perfect the way you are, right?" I asked. Her eyes scanned over my face as if she were searching for an ulterior motive behind my words. "I love everything about you inside and out."

She smiled. "I know."

I leaned forward. I could feel heat rising from the surface of the water on my chin and neck. I looked her straight in the eye so she would know I meant every word that I was saying. "I know there is a pressure to look a certain way, but you don't need to lose weight. And if someone ever tells you that, I honestly think you should kick them in their genitals." A smile bloomed on her face and she laughed. I smiled and continued. "If you have to hurt yourself to be good enough in their eyes, you don't need to be doing it. I want you healthy so we can die together, preferably from old age and while skinny dipping."

"Skinny dipping? _That's _how you want us to die?" She laughed. But I noticed she looked a little less stressed after my speech and that made me feel accomplished and happy. She continued. "If you become a druggie and I become anorexic, we'll probably end up dying at the same time…"

I glared at her and she giggled again and it was the best sound in the entire world. "I'd rather us die when we're old and crusty."

She shrugged. "If that's what you want…"

I reluctantly laughed along with her, because laughing is what you do when you're so happy you think you might burst, and her laughter made me happy. She pulled on my hand again.

"Come in here with me." She smiled a smile so innocent the irony of it all almost knocked me off my feet. I immediately began pulling my shoes and socks off. I threw them across the bathroom.

"Okay, but I can't promise to keep my hands to myself." I winked. She laughed again. I could tell she was still in pain but I was almost positive laughter and heat helped ease the pain a bit.

I pulled my shirt and pants off and she held up her hand, signaling for me to cease undressing. I paused, now clad in just my boxers and confused. I wasn't allowed to get naked? That makes this a lot less fun…

"What?" I asked.

She blushed and set her elbow against the edge of the tub. She sat up a little and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, that newly-discovered mischievous smile traced on her face.

"I was just admiring the view. I think you should be a Calvin Klein underwear model."

This time _I _blushed, something extremely embarrassing to admit for two reasons. One: I don't think I've ever blushed at anything before in my life. Two: blushing is _not _manly. It was a weird feeling too. My face got all hot and my ears too. I didn't like it.

She sat up suddenly, the cutest smile covering her face.

"Did you just _blush_, Cole Ryan?" She exclaimed in pleased shock.

Oh God.

I focused on the gentle rocking of the gray water in the ceramic tub, her naked body, and the dark ends of her hair as they dipped into the water, making sure the evil feeling wouldn't happen again. When I was sure that all the blood was rushing south opposed to north, I looked back up at her face.

"No." I lied.

I busied myself as much as I could with the simple task of completely undressing. Once my boxers were off, I made a show of neatly placing them beside my jeans. She was laughing the entire time. She reached for me. She grabbed my hand and I stepped into the tub. The water was pleasantly hot. The tub was small, so I wasn't sure how to go about this. She scooted down to the end of the tub and sat on her legs. I sat at the opposite end, the faucet painfully stabbing my back.

"You did too! I saw it. Your cheeks got red!" She exclaimed in a voice that clearly voiced that she thought it was _cute. _She is cute. Babies are cute. Puppies are cute. _I _am not cute. I'm intense. Sexy. Hot. Anything but _cute. _

"No way. I was just flushing because I was thinking of the things I wanted to do to you, and it increased my blood pressure." I raised my eyebrows at her. She leaned forward.

"You blushed. I know blushing when I see it. And you blushed. I made you blush for the first time in your entire life!" She said happily. I defiantly stared her down.

"I did _not _blush. I _flushed _because I was thinking about doing sexual things to you."

She leaned back, sliding down so she was leaning her back and head against the back wall of the shower. She stretched her legs out and wedged them between my crossed legs and the right wall of the bathtub.

"Sure. Blushing…flushing…call it what you want." She grinned.

I teasingly stroked a hand down her calf and she automatically reacted to my touch, shivering suddenly. I really loved when she did that.

"I want to call it touching." I whispered. I leaned forward and pushed my hand through the warm water, placing a hand on her thigh, stroking her skin under the water. Her face was berry colored and it took her a moment to respond.

"You were touching? That doesn't make much sense. Your hands were clearly by your side." She smiled.

I grinned slowly. "Maybe…but in my head, I was touching you."

She blushed (HA! Not me. Her.) and stood up. Uh, that didn't mean get out of the water…

She walked toward the side of the tub I was on and lowered herself down. I stretched my legs out and scooted up against the left side of the tub, making room for her on the right. She sat between my legs and the side of the tub and then laid back. We didn't fit comfortably both on our backs, so I pulled her upper body on top of mine. She kissed the spot on my chest her face was resting on and I set a hand on her wet lower back, just below where her long hair was plastered to her skin.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked, completely changing the topic as the mood morphed.

"It still hurts a little but not nearly as badly." She answered.

We laid in the tub, pressed together, for a long time. I was just about to drift off to sleep when my phone rang. Emily sat up and reached over the edge of the tub, grabbing my pants off the bathroom floor. She pulled my phone from my pocket. I sat up and leaned against the shower wall and she boldly sat herself down right between my legs. She handed me my phone and I attempted to touch the touch screen to answer the phone, but it was difficult when my fingers were wet.

She leaned back against my chest, her lower back pressed right against my dick. Oh boy. The blood is definitely heading south.

I sighed in frustration as I failed to answer the call. I tried to tap the screen to see who was calling, but that wouldn't work either.

Emily looked up at me and smiled at my frustrated face.

"It's so hard!" I explained impatiently, angrily jabbing at the screen.

She had a coy smile on her face.

"Oh yes it is."

I laughed loudly in spite of myself. I poked her stomach and she laughed, cringing away from my tickling hand. I kissed her cheek and she leaned back against my chest.

My phone started ringing again. Emily gently pulled it from my hand and managed to answer it easily. She handed it to me.

"Hello?" I asked. That was unnecessarily difficult.

"Hi, Coley." My mom greeted.

Emily could hear her and she immediately fought laughter. I could feel the muscles in her stomach tighten as she tried to keep from giggling.

"Hi, Mom. What do you need?"

I gently rested my hand over Emily's mouth. She defiantly stuck her tongue out, licking my palm. I just kept it there. That might have worked when we were little, but I definitely didn't mind her licking me now.

She reached up and grabbed my hand with both of hers, attempting to pull it off. I resisted her efforts, having to fight back laughter myself. The sound of the water splashing was very loud—louder than Emily could ever be—so I pulled my hand off.

"Ha!" She hissed in victory.

"You and Emily should come over at five. We're going to swim and then have dinner." She said. I could hear the twins screaming in the background.

I wondered what the occasion was, but I wanted her off the phone more than I wanted to know the answer. It's really creepy to talk to my mother while Emily's naked body is pressed against my own.

"Okay. We most likely will. Bye."

"Bye, honey."

I quickly hung up the phone, even though I was sure she was probably going to say more.

Emily looked up at me. "What did she want?"

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly. "For us to make her a grandchild."

She squirmed in my grip, her heart beating so quickly I could feel it. "Well she's going to get her wish if you don't stop holding me so tightly. You know, I'm supposed to be a good girl, but you don't make me feel very innocent things."

If she wants to have sex, she must feel a lot better now. Good. My tub idea was the best I've had in a while.

I grinned triumphantly. "You're still innocent. And I love it about you. And yeah, you're right, because I don't have any more condoms and I'm pretty close to pinning you against the bottom of this tub."

She moved out from between my legs and to the opposite end of the tub, which was probably the smartest idea. That probably should have happened a long time ago, but I lack the self control she has. The water felt colder without her and kind of depressing.

"Perhaps we should buy some." She suggested, blushing as soon as she said the words. I smiled.

"I'm thinking that's probably the best idea." It's an _amazing_ idea.

She ran her fingers through her hair. It was dry near the scalp and completely wet at the bottom.

"What did your mom _really _want?" She asked.

"She wants us to go swimming and eat dinner with them. But if you don't feel well enough, we don't have to go." I replied.

"No, I feel better. We should go." She smiled. She gathered her hair and pulled it over her right shoulder.

The water was getting cold, so I climbed out of the tub. I pulled a towel out from under the cabinet and grabbed one for Emily. I wrapped mine around my waist and Emily stood up and stepped out of the tub also. I handed hers to her and she wrapped it around her wet body. Her hair was plastered against her tan skin and the two shades just looked beautiful together. Her lips and cheeks were red and she was almost so beautiful it hurt.

"I don't feel so well." I blurted out.

She frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"

"You took my breath away." I said seriously. I didn't allow myself to laugh until she began. I expected her to blush after she stopped laughing and tell me I was cheesy, but instead she walked right up to me and pressed her mouth firmly against mine. I was taken aback. She pulled her mouth back and kissed me again, this time pressing her tongue past my lips and pushing it deep into my mouth. She kissed me like this for at least three minutes, all of which I was fighting to keep from having a heart attack.

She pulled back, breathing heavily.

"Where did _that _come from?" I demanded.

She smiled. "I had to give you mouth-to-mouth, didn't I? I wouldn't want you to die."

She laughed a tinkling laugh and I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly.

"I love you, Emily Oken." I said, honestly serious this time. I couldn't wait until her name was Emily Ryan.

She squeezed me back. "I love you too, Caden Ryan."

I grimaced. "Ew. Don't call me that."

She smiled mischievously. "What are you going to do to stop me, Caden?"

I tightened my arms around her. "I'm going to…never let you leave this apartment."

"You're terrible at this." She said. "That's not a threat."

"You'll never get to dance again, unless it's between the sheets with me." I reminded her. I winked.

"…I'd probably miss ballet." She said begrudgingly.

I win.

* * *

The supermarket was packed.

We literally had to push through people to walk a few feet. Stupid tourist season. We stopped here to buy condoms before we went to my parents' house, but we probably should have stopped afterwards. It'd be less crowded then.

I let Emily lead us, interested in seeing if she knew where to go. She didn't. I let her lead us all around the store, the most adorable, confused expression on her face, before I took her hand. We walked to the aisle we needed. It was, thankfully, not full at all. I guess Malibu isn't very sexually active right now. Or they are all riding bareback. Probably the latter.

I inspected the shelves. Emily wrapped her arms around my body from behind, leaning against me and kissing my back. She smelled really good and the feeling of her body against mine was unexplainable.

I was inspecting all the brands and types. I already knew what I wanted to get, but I was at peace with Emily leaning against me, so I let the moment drag on.

I jokingly grabbed a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms.

"How about these? Ever wanted to glow from the inside out?"

She leaned to the side and peeked at what I was holding from behind my back. I knew she blushed even though I couldn't see her. She pressed her face into my back, probably in embarrassment.

"Oh yeah. All the time." She said sarcastically.

I placed them back on the shelf. I turned around, attempting to face her, but she clung tightly to my back. I reached behind me and poked her.

"I bet you just wake up in the mornings and think: gee, I wish Cole would put a glow in the dark condom on and walk around the dark apartment." I teased. She attempted to hide her laughter by laughing silently, but I could feel it against me.

"Of course. It's every girl's dream." She said, the sarcasm in her voice almost solid.

I grabbed a box of condoms that supposedly had warming lubricant on them.

"Want the warming kind?"

She shrugged against me, her face still pressing into my back. I sighed. I reached back and touched her curls.

"I'm not leaving until you pick what kind you want." I said stubbornly.

She leaned to the right again, sticking her head out and glancing at the rows. She examined all the types.

"Cole!" She whined. "I don't know anything about condoms!"

I bit back a smile. "Then this will be a fantastic learning experience!"

She leaned her head back against me. "Just get the kind we used last time."

I reached back and attempted to stick my hand up her shirt, but she had on a stupid one piece bathing suit under her clothes. Probably the one she wore in New Zealand.

"That condom was like a million years old, I don't remember what kind it was." I said.

She freaked out. "What? Are you serious? Cole! They don't work if they're old!"

She let go of my back and stood in front of me, stress lines appearing on her forehead.

"Well fuck. We're screwed." I said.

Her eyes widened and she appeared to be choking. I laughed and pulled her into my arms.

"I'm just kidding. It wasn't that old. I wouldn't purposely impregnate you unless you asked." She relaxed in my arms. She pulled back and turned back to the aisle. I kept an arm around her waist.

She reached out and grabbed the most flamboyant box. It was sunshine yellow with shooting stars on the front and the word ecstasy written in red covering most the front of the box. She examined the box, her eyebrows furrowed.

"'Feels like nothing's there'" She quoted the box. Her lips twitched and she started laughing.

I pulled the box from her hands. "Ultra-ribbed for pleasure." I winked.

She got her laughter under control and grabbed the box again. "Ribbed? That sounds painful…"

"Actually, it's _supposed_ to be the opposite." I said.

She placed the box back on the shelf, obviously not impressed by the advertising. She stared at them all.

She turned back to me. "Honestly, I have no idea what any of this means. Can we just get whatever kind you were using last?"

I nodded and grabbed the box. We were about to leave when a sudden voice made me practically piss myself.

"Emmy?"

Emily froze. I couldn't breathe. I was afraid to turn around. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die.

I guess we both assumed if we didn't move, he would think we were someone else. But there's really no mistaking Emily's curly hair and the way her feet naturally face outwards because of ballet.

Oliver walked up beside us. I could see him from the corner of my eye, but I didn't turn to face him. I counted in my head, hoping this was a nightmare.

Emily made a sound that sounded remarkably like a squeak.

"Um…hi, Daddy." She whispered.

We both slowly turned to face him.

He was staring at the box of condoms in my hand, his nostrils flaring and his face turning deep, deep red. He started shaking.

"Oh God," Emily groaned. I glanced at her. She shut her eyes and hid halfway behind me.

The shaking escalated, and he lunged forward. His fist made contact with my jaw and I felt a sharp pain flood my entire head and little lights erupted behind my eyes. It hurt, but I refused to let him have the last punch. I swung my fist back at him and felt satisfied when it made contact with his shoulder. He yelled out in pain and I was still blinded by shock from his punch, but I knew he was about to hit me again.

I felt Emily brush past me. I focused my eyes and she grabbed his pulled back arm.

"Daddy! Don't you dare hit him again! If you do I swear to _God _I will never talk to you ever again!" She screamed.

Oliver seemed to come to his senses. He slowly lowered his arm and Emily stood between us, her face pale and her lips quivering.

Claire came waddling down the aisle as quickly as she could. She abandoned her shopping cart and ran up to the scene. She glanced at me with my jaw that was mostly likely swollen, and Oliver rubbing his shoulder, and the box of condoms on the floor, and the shaken-up Emily, and understood.

"Oliver!" She scolded. She smacked his arm and he screamed out in pain because she hit him in the same place I punched him. I gently rotated my jaw and the same, sharp pain made my eyes water. Fucking bastard.

"What is _wrong _with you? She's an adult, Oliver!" Claire admonished. She walked over to me. "Are you okay, Cole?"

I nodded. "Doesn't hurt at all." I lied. But even lying hurt. I winced.

Claire turned back to Oliver. Emily gently touched my jaw, her eyes full of anger.

"Fucking jerk." She hissed under her breath. Her eyes welled up with tears and I offered her a (painful) smile. I couldn't really feel anything beyond shock.

"You should be ashamed, Oliver." Claire said. I refused to look at anything but Emily because I didn't care about any of the rest of it. I just cared if she was okay. I rubbed her back and I wanted to kiss her but that would hurt. She offered me a watery smile. Stupid Oliver.

"No! They aren't married, Claire! They aren't married and that…punk…was buying condoms!" Oliver screamed.

Claire bent down and picked up the box of condoms.

"That's where you're an idiot, Oliver. Because they weren't buying these for sex. Emily was getting them because Pointe ballerinas use them to reduce friction on their toes while dancing." Claire said.

Um. What the fuck?

Emily seemed just as confused, but she quickly grasped onto the excuse.

"Yeah, Daddy. Look at my feet. I needed more so I could adequately pad them." She said quickly. Oliver glanced at her injured feet and looked back up, his eyes full of confusion.

He exhaled. "So…wait…you were using those…for ballet?"

Emily and Claire nodded fervently, but I shook my head. I was fucking sick of this. I was sick of people padding the truth for Oliver. It just enabled him to act the same way again.

I pulled the condoms from Claire's hands and walked up to him.

"I am sick of you acting like Emily is your ten year old girl and I'm some thirty year old pervert that is molesting her." I snapped. I thrust the condoms at him. "We got these as a form of birth control for when we have sex. Because we are _adults _and adults have sex, Oliver. Emily is going to be twenty soon. She is not a little girl anymore, and you have to grasp that. And if you want to live a delusional life where she's your little girl and punch me every time you are faced with a situation where you have to acknowledge the fact that she's a woman, fine. Whatever. I'll take your punches. But just know that this is fucking _pathetic_."

Emily cautiously closed her hand around my arm, obviously trying to get me to stop, but I pulled my arm out her grasp. I stared at Oliver's livid face and continued.

"Emily and I are getting married in a few months. We're going to get married and we're going to have children and you can't stop that. You can't turn time back and have her be your little girl again. You can't stop her from growing older. She's grown up, Oliver. And you can accept that and let her go, or you can hold onto the person she used to be instead of getting to know who she is now. I know you want to go back to the days when she rode on your shoulders and had you chase the monsters out from under her bed. But you _can't_, okay? You can't. You can punch me a thousand times but it will _never _make Emily a little girl anymore. So instead of punching the face of the man she loves when you catch her growing up, you should try being happy that she's in a relationship with someone who loves and respects her. You should try feeling proud that she's smart enough to even be wasting time on any kind of birth control at all, because a lot of girls don't."

He was shaking similar to the way he was shaking before he punched me.

"Punch me if you want." I muttered. I stood still so he had a good target. "But don't expect to gain anything out of it."

He raised his fist, his jaw clenched and intense emotions burning in his eyes. Emily stepped forward, reaching to stop his punch.

He started crying.

I watched the tears glide down his weather-worn skin and I knew that he was in more pain that moment than I was, even though I just gave a speech with an injured jaw.

He reached for Emily and held her, crying into her hair. He gently held her face in his large hands. He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead and pulled her back into his arms.

"It isn't fair," he blubbered out, "it isn't fair how quickly the years go by. I feel like I didn't have enough time with you. I feel like I'm losing you. I feel like he's taking my baby away." He stroked her hair and cried even heavier. "You have no idea how much I wanted you, from the moment I knew you were alive. You have no idea how much I love you. He can't love you half as much as I do."

Even Claire didn't know what to say.

Emily patted his back. She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes that were the same shade as his moist. "I love you, Daddy."

I guess that's all she really knew to say. But luckily, it was all he needed to hear.

He took a deep breath and wiped his tears off his face. He is the only grown man I know who will sob in a supermarket.

He let go of Emily.

She walked over to me.

And it was so much more than that.


	18. Piece

**A/n: **This chapter is dedicated to daisy617 because her 18th birthday is on the 17th :) while the character who shares her name isn't exactly pleasant, I find daisy617 to be a lovely person, so happy birthday to her :D I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. Thanks for the reviews last chapter. Leave your thoughts por favor? :)

* * *

**"She's beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego." - Sugarcult, "Pretty Girl (The Way)"**

**"Have you ever loved someone so much you'd give an arm for? Not the expression, no, literally give an arm for? When they know they're your heart, and you know you were their armor. And you would destroy anyone who would try to harm her." - Eminem, "When I'm Gone" **

"Oh my God!"

Let the record show that I said coming to my mother's house with a swollen and bruised jaw was a bad idea. But Emily insisted it wouldn't be very polite to just ditch the party when my mother was looking forward to seeing us. I knew she was right, because my mother was taking to my absence about as well as Oliver was taking to Emily's, but I still feared the emotional explosion that I knew my injury would bring.

Mom grabbed my arm and yanked me over to the couch where she forced me to sit, as if standing jeopardized my health. Emily sank down beside me, resigning herself to what we both knew was about to be at least fifteen minutes of my mom fussing over my injury like it was a slice to my femoral artery. She leaned against my side, her hair soft against my skin, and set a warm hand on my knee. I could get through my mom's fussiness for her.

"Coley! What happened to you?" My mom demanded. She kneeled in front of me and gently touched my jaw. I never understood why people always touch injuries. How does that help anything? It just fucking hurts man. I winced and she immediately drew back her hand. Talking hurt even more now that the injury set in. I hated the fact that his punch made a noticeable effect. I wanted him to think he was a sissy puncher. I just felt a slight, throbbing pain if I didn't move it. But if I moved it to talk, pain shot up and down my jaw and made my left ear ache. I'm not sure if that's normal. Damn. This means eating is going to hurt. My mom better not have made steaks tonight. If there is steak, I'm eating it regardless of the pain. Just like I fully intend on making out with Emily tonight no matter what my jaw feels like. Some things you just don't compromise.

Emily answered my mom's question for me.

"My dad happened to him." She said bitterly. She still wasn't happy with Oliver, even after his dramatic supermarket scene. And I agree. Nothing makes it okay for him to hit me. Jackass. However, I got a great punch in. I bet his shoulder is dislocated. Serves him right.

Mom gasped and eyed my injury again.

"_Oliver _did this? Did he find out you two are living together?" She asked. She didn't wait for us to reply. She stood up and quickly walked out of the living room, returning a minute later with an ice pack. She handed it to me and I reluctantly held it to my jaw. Pain.

Emily seemed unsure of how to answer it. She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want my mother to know what happened. Oliver will probably tell her anyway though.

Emily seemed to realize this. I glanced at her and a deep blush had taken over her complexion. My mom looked confused.

"Well…we were at the store…and…"

She stopped.

My mom understood.

She nodded, a look of realization covering her face. "And he saw you guys buying condoms?"

I nodded so Emily didn't have to. My mom sat in the chair across from the couch. She looked pissed off.

"Who does he think he is, punching my little boy in the face? I hope you punched him back."

I nodded, grinning even though it hurt.

"He should be happy you're using them in the first place!" She grumbled.

I pulled the ice off my face.

"I know! That's what I said!" I exclaimed. I immediately regretted it. Emily guided the ice back to my jaw.

Dad took this moment to walk into the living room. Oh God. He's going to have a field day.

Emily seemed to realize this too. If there's one person who would without a doubt shamelessly tease us about our sex life, it would be my dad. She pressed her face into my arm.

Dad spotted me and then stopped in his tracks.

"Who'd you get in a fight with? I hope you won." He said, laughing slightly evilly. He sat down on the arm of the chair Mom was in.

Emily was refusing to talk, which was definitely the best course of action. I mimicked her.

"Oliver punched Cole." Mom explained. Traitor.

Dad whistled. "Beat up by a thirty-six year old man who writes toilet paper jingles for a living. Ouch. That's got to smart on our Ryan pride."

I glared. I attempted to move the ice away from my jaw so I could retaliate, but Emily's hand grabbed my arm and held it, preventing me from doing it.

"You'll regret it tonight if you keep talking." She whispered.

At first I thought she meant she was going to cut me off. I glanced at her in horror, because we'd barely even gotten our sex life started! But then I realized she just meant my jaw would hurt even worse. I guess my mind automatically jumps to sex first.

I nodded. She leaned back into me, attempting to hide from my father's blunt personality.

However, it's something that just can't be done.

"This must be about sex." He exclaimed. "Emily looks like she's dying of embarrassment over there, and Oliver only turns violent over his little girl. So you either hurt her or threatened her innocence, and since I'm almost positive it's not the first, I'm going with the last." He reasoned.

We refused to say anything. Unfortunately, that fueled the fire. A humored grin took over his face.

"So what was it? Did he catch you two fornicating?" He fell into laughter.

I glanced at Emily, a confused expression on my face. _Fornicating? _I mouthed. She mimed shooting herself in the face. I guess that means it means sex.

I decided it might be best to tell the story before he started guessing things twenty times worse than what actually happened. I nodded at my mom.

She turned to look at my dad.

"He caught them buying condoms." She explained.

He immediately began howling with laughter. "Cole! My son! Have I taught you _nothing_? You always go one town over to buy condoms if the father is an overprotective man with slightly violent tendencies! Always! You never buy them close to his house!"

I glared at him again. I moved the ice down.

"My bad." I struggled out. "Must have forgotten that one."

Dad leaned back against the back of the chair. He seemed extremely entertained by all of this.

"So what happened after he punched you?"

Emily reluctantly sat back up. As much as she hated having attention drawn to her, she obviously hated me talking through the pain even more.

"Cole punched him back. Then I broke it up before they began slamming each other's heads into the floor. Claire came over and calmed Dad down after that." Her face was still seeped with bright red. Poor Emily. She's so shy about sex. It's so adorable. It makes me want to rip her clothes off. I'm not sure how those two emotions mix, but they do.

I pulled back the ice. "And then he started _sobbing_." I said in vindictive pleasure. Emily glared and me and forcibly pushed the ice back on my jaw.

"Stop talking!" She demanded.

I saluted her.

Dad laughed. "He started _crying_? Haha, what a douche."

Emily glared. "Hey! He may be kind of…sensitive, but he's still my dad." She defended.

Dad looked ashamed of himself immediately. "Oh, shit. Sorry, Emily."

She smiled kindly. "It's okay."

Dad opened his mouth to say something—probably something perverted—but he was interrupted, thankfully, in the form of two little girls.

Adeline jumped up onto his lap immediately, causing him to almost tumble off the chair. He grabbed the back and steadied himself. Adeline leaned against him and smiled.

Odette was a different story. She walked in and stared at me with wide, green eyes.

"Who hit you, dumb head?" She asked. She giggled.

I sighed. "The toothfairy. Go play."

She ignored my request and sat beside Emily on the couch.

"I'm not so sure I want to date a boy who lets a fairy beat him up," Emily hissed at me. She laughed softly and I laughed along with her, poking her side in retaliation.

My mom stood up. She must have realized that I didn't feel like listening to Odette tease me.

"Hey, girls, let's go set the table out back!" She exclaimed excitedly. Adeline smiled and slid off Dad's lap and grabbed Mom's hand. Odette was a little harder.

"That doesn't sound fun." She whined.

Mom glared. Odette reluctantly slid off the couch and took my mom's other hand. They left the room and went out in the backyard. I could hear their high voices until they were far out into the yard.

Dad sat in the chair Mom vacated. I figured now would be a good time to tell him about moving. I glanced at Emily and met her brown eyes. I pulled the ice back.

"Moving." I said. She stared at the ice pack until I moved it back and then she nodded.

"Jake?" She asked.

He looked up from his phone. "Hmm?"

"Cole and I are moving to New York City after the wedding, which will be in March." She said quickly.

He looked shocked. He set his phone on the table beside the chair and sat up straighter.

"Moving? To New York? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why? Where did this come from? Oh God, Miley is going to have a fit…" He glanced nervously out the window.

Emily fidgeted with visible guilt. I reached over into her lap and grabbed her hand that was resting against her thigh. I threaded my fingers with hers and she offered me a smile. She looked back at my dad.

"I got into the New York City Ballet. New members have to arrive by April." She explained.

Dad nodded slowly. "Oh…I see."

We could both sense the words he didn't say: _so you're taking my son all the way across the United States? _

I pulled the ice back again.

"We'll still visit for Christmas. Mom will be fine." I said. Ow. Pain shooting up to my ear.

Dad looked out the window again. "What about the twins?"

Emily looked sick. She glanced at me.

"Cole, maybe I should turn them down. The more I think about this, the more it seems like a selfish idea." She whispered quickly to me. I glared at my dad even though it wasn't really his fault. I placed the hand that wasn't holding the ice on the top of her head. I pulled her head over so it was resting on my chest and I kissed the top of it. I brushed my fingers through her hair.

"We're going." I told her.

She sighed and lifted her head up.

"But, I really think that it's—"

I shook my head. Her sentence died on her lips. She smiled at me and nodded.

Mom walked back in a few seconds later. She stopped, taking in Emily's head tucked under my chin and the way I had her protectively in my arms, and my dad's shocked face.

"What happened?" She asked.

"They…are moving to New York after the wedding." Dad said carefully.

Mom's jaw dropped.

"_What_?" She hissed.

I had an urge to cover Emily's ears with my hands so she wouldn't have to listen to it all.

"Emily got into a ballet company group thing in New York. We're getting married in March, some time before the tenth, and then in April we're going to New York and living there." I said, ignoring the eye-watering pain. Emily squeezed my side, trying to punish me for talking, but she could never purposely hurt me.

Mom blinked. She sank down onto the arm of the chair.

"Oh."

"I'm so sorry, Miley." Emily whispered. I focused on the way the sunlight made pieces of copper shine in Emily's hair and not on the way my mother's face seemed to be crumbling.

Mom forced a smile on her face and shook her head. "No, no, don't apologize. I'm so happy for you, Em. Go follow your dreams. You're going to light that stage up!"

She slid off the chair. She swallowed. She smoothed her shirt down with shaking hands. "Now. I'm going to go do laundry. Be right back."

I don't know why she bothered to say that. We all knew she was going to go cry.

Dad stood up. He coughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I…better go help her. You know, with the laundry." He nodded and walked after her.

Emily seemed to be choking. "If your parents took it that badly, imagine how _my dad _is going to take this?"

She's right. My mom wasn't usually a drama queen about stuff like this. Oliver almost always takes things fifty times worse than she does. Which meant he might actually strangle me with his bare hands when he finds out. Oh joy.

I sighed.

"I better get used to this ice pack."

Emily leaned against me and kissed my neck.

"He won't hit you for this. It's not your fault."

I snorted. "That doesn't matter! He'll still injure me! Except this time I'm going to have to pack this ice between my thighs because he's going to kick me in the balls!"

Emily winced. "Yeah, he might actually do that. He's not really a fan of your balls right now."

I turned to her, a grin taking over my face. She was already blushing, as if she knew what I was about to say.

"But you are, right?"

She attempted to reply, but was interrupted in the form of an eavesdropping, brown headed child.

"MOMMY BOUGHT ME A GLITTER BALL! IT'S FULL OF WATER AND IN THE WATER THERE'S PINK GLITTER! I am a fan of my glitter balls!" Adeline said excitedly as she skipped into the living room.

Odette followed her, a mischievous smile on her face and her hands hidden behind her back. She was in her bathing suit and her hair was dripping onto the floor.

I nervously stood up and pulled Emily with me.

Odette eased forward, a pseudo look of innocence on her face.

"Emily," I hissed. "RUN!"

Odette pulled a water balloon out from behind her back and aimed at us. We took off running out of the living room and outside. The water balloon smacked Emily right in the small of her back and she gasped, halting immediately. Water soaked the back of her shirt and dripped down onto her shorts. She turned around slowly.

"You're going to regret that, kid." She threatened.

Odette smiled. "Bring. It. On."

An hour later, the four of us were having a full blown water war in the pool. And I think it's obvious who won: me.

Just kidding.

Odette won.

* * *

**MILEY'S POV:**

I started the dryer with shaking hands. Once the gentle and rhythmic _thud-thud-thud _of the dryer overcame the silence, I allowed myself to cry.

I sat on the washer and pressed my face into my hands. I know him moving shouldn't upset me so much. But I've already lost so many children. Is it so selfish to want the ones I have here with me?

Jake walked into the laundry room, his hands in his pockets and his face covered in worry.

"Mile? What's wrong?" He asked, as if he didn't know. He walked up in front of me and I leaned forward and pressed my face against him, breathing in the scent of his new cologne. He wrapped his arms around me and seemed confused. I pulled back after a second.

"I know I shouldn't be that upset about it. But I am." I whispered. He knew what I meant.

He set his hands on the washer on either side of my legs. He sighed and I noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm not happy about it either. But we can't stop Emily from following her dream, and we can't stop Cole from following Emily. We just have to work with it. If we pay for the plane tickets I'm sure they can visit frequently."

If only he'd take the damn money. Maybe he would if I told him how much it would mean to me. Secretly, he's a big softie.

"I guess you're right. I need to stop crying over him leaving already. I'm going to fall apart at the wedding." I muttered.

Jake grinned. "You and Oliver are going to be the sole people keeping Kleenex in business."

I laughed lightly. "Oh yeah."

He set his hands over mine and his smile spread to his eyes. "You have a wedding to look forward to planning. I know how excited you are about that."

I grinned. "I am pretty excited about that…"

He kissed me.

"And you have a sexy husband who finds you extremely attractive." He winked. "You've got a lot going for you."

I nodded. "You're right. I need to look at the positives instead of the negatives."

He was staring at me with an intensive look.

"What?" I asked, glancing down to see what he could possibly be looking at.

"I want to pull your clothes off. Can I?" He asked casually, as if he were asking me to borrow my car.

I smirked. "You want to have sex in the laundry room while our children are outside by themselves? Do you not see how irresponsible that is?"

He shrugged. "I never claimed to be responsible. Besides, Cole and Emily can handle them."

He leaned forward and kissed me again. I pulled back.

"They'd totally know what we did." I said. I was trying very hard to resist, but my eyes kept darting back to his lips, obviously proving that my subconscious wanted this just as badly as he did.

"So? We totally knew what they were doing when you called him earlier." He argued.

"Hey! We do not know that! I just heard a giggle and the splash of water. They could have been…doing dishes together!" I exclaimed. Jake's mind always jumped to the dirtiest possibility.

Jake laughed. "Right. Doing the dishes together. No son of mine is going to be doing the dishes with some girl opposed to having some fun in the bathtub."

I smacked his arm. "Just because _you're _a perv doesn't mean Cole is too. Maybe he got my innocence."

Jake laughed so loudly my ears popped.

"Your INNOCENCE? Where is this _innocence _I'm supposed to see? Was that what it was last night when you demanded to be on top?" He howled with laughter. I kicked his knee and glared, looking nervously at the door.

"Shut up! And fine, if you're going to complain about our sex life, we just won't have one anymore." I said, a smug smile crossing my face when his laughter immediately ceased.

"Whoa, back up! I am not complaining! Not at all! I like it when you're on top." He winked. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his.

"I'm going to say this one time and one time only," I murmured. "I am innocent compared to you."

His green eyes bore into mine. He nodded. "Okay. You're innocent…compared to me. Can we have sex or not?"

I leaned back and flicked his forehead.

He grinned mischievously. "I'll let you be on top again!" He yelled.

I kicked him once more. "Would you shut up?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Why don't you _make me_ shut up?"

I really meant to just kick him again, but somehow that kick turned into a yank, and the next thing I knew we were making out on top of the washer, and then I was laying across the washer and the dryer, and then somehow he had my clothes off and his clothes off and we were once again—in Jake Ryan's words—fornicating.

When we were done, Jake pulled his hand off my mouth (because I have always had and will always have a big mouth) and grinned at me, accomplishment in his eyes.

"I knew I could get you naked in this laundry room." He bragged.

I sighed, the warm dryer rocking against my cheek. I pressed my face against the warmth of the metal and the sound made me want to sleep.

"I only slept with you to protect our children's fragile ears from hearing you scream about sex positions." If I kept telling myself that, maybe I could make it true…

He pulled me against his hot body and grinned. "Right. Mmhmm."

Footsteps made me sit up so quickly I slammed my head into Jake's. We both winced.

"Mom? Are you okay? Look, I'm sorry we're moving, but really, you don't have to cry for an hour over it." Cole called.

I jumped off the washer and scrambled to grab my clothes.

"Uhh…it's okay, Cole. I'm fine. We'll be out in a second." I called, my voice probably higher than it should be.

"Everything is perfectly fine. No, really. It was pretty great. I mean—it is pretty great." Jake exclaimed. I kicked him again, this time making his eyes water.

There was a pause.

"You two are repulsive." Cole muttered, disgust in his voice.

"Oh yeah?" Jake challenged. "I heard all about you and Emily in the bathtub!"

Cole seemed to be choking. "Well I don't know what you heard, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" He stuttered.

"I'm talking about FORNICATION!" Jake yelled.

"WOULD YOU STOP USING THAT WORD? It's creepy! It makes me think of…beetles doing it, or something!" Cole said in annoyance. "And we were not doing anything!"

I lightly punched Jake in the stomach. He glared at me. "STOP MANHANDLING ME, MILEY! IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE! IT DOESN'T MAKE ME ANGRY; IT JUST MAKES ME WANT TO TEAR YOUR CLOTHES OFF!"

"I'm going to throw up." Cole said from outside the door. "Bye."

"NO!" I called after him. "HE DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT! He meant manhandle like…like hit! Not like…uhh."

Silence met my words. I glared at Jake.

"Are you happy now?" I demanded.

He smiled. "Actually, yes."

* * *

When we made it outside, Adeline and Odette were playing in the shallow end of the pool with their floats on—I was very thankful Cole and Emily had enough sense to remember that—and the two nineteen year olds were looking a little PG-13 in the hot tub. Emily was on Cole's lap, his arms were wrapped tightly around her, her head was tipped back so he could kiss her without her turning around, and they were definitely making out. Didn't that hurt his jaw? Jeez.

Jake snorted. "He swears they weren't doing anything, but they look pretty personal over there."

I walked over to the hot tub. I cleared my throat, but they didn't hear me over the sound of the jets. When I saw tongue, I knew it was time to break this up. I tapped Cole's head.

He lifted his face off Emily's and stared at me. I glared and pointed at the twins.

"Let's try to keep things PG out here, okay?" I asked.

"Should we go to the laundry room?" Cole rebutted.

I glowered but couldn't help but laugh a little. "That was a low blow."

He hugged Emily tighter to him and shrugged. "You set yourself up for that one."

Emily leaned against him, looking so content and so in love that it made my heart swell. She was wearing a deep, emerald green one piece (all of the other girls Cole dated always wore these extremely small string bikinis) and her hair was piled on top of her head. She looked a little tired though and a little stressed. Actually, Cole did too. He needed a hair cut—his hair was getting shaggy—and he looked a little paler than usual. I wondered what was going on in their life that was stressing them out. They kept their relationship so secretive that I could only ever wonder.

"Keep that up and you aren't getting any dinner. And I made your favorite." I threatened.

He sat up a little straighter. "Steak?"

I nodded. He pressed a hand to his bruised jaw and sighed. Emily kissed it gently and it occurred to me that I've seen her do more with him in the past five minutes than I've seen in the past four years. She was always shy about that kind of stuff around people. I'd seen quick goodbye kisses but never full out making out. I wonder what made the drastic change.

I heard a splash and I glanced over at the pool. Adeline and Odette pulled Jake into the water and he was holding one with each of his arms, spinning around and around in circles. Their happy laughs filled the entire yard and my heart. I pulled my clothes off—I had a bikini on underneath—and walked over to the pool. I slid thigh-deep into the water, gasping and cringing at the temperature. Jake stopped spinning and smiled at me, winking. He tossed Adeline through the air gently, and I caught her in my arms, stumbling forward a bit. She was laughing so hard tears filled her eyes.

"Me next!" Odette demanded. I gently set Adeline down in the pool and she doggy paddled over to the edge of the pool, where there were various pool toys. Jake propelled Odette through the air and she slammed into me. This time my footing wasn't spectacular, so I caught her, but I slipped and we both went under water.

I gasped as my head broke the surface and Odette was giggling. She jumped in the water and climbed up on my back, pushing me under again. I swam through the water blindly, escaping Odette's grasps, until my head bumped into Jake's lap. I let my head break the surface. He had a cocky smile on his face.

"Not in front of the children, Miley!" He scolded. I splashed him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really want to start a splash war with me? You know I'll win."

Odette grabbed his arm excitedly, hanging off of it. "Daddy! Daddy! Guess what!"

He smiled at her. "What?"

"I won the splash fight we had with Cole and Emily!" She said proudly. Jake grinned and high fived her and I kissed her cheek.

"I bet you did, sweetheart."

I glanced at the hot tub at the mention of Cole and Emily. Cole had his hands on her upper arms and he was holding her tightly, obviously jokingly teasing her about something. She had a face-consuming smile on and she shook her head. He immediately pushed her under and then they were wrestling. That's much better than making out. At least that's something that won't scar the poor babies.

I looked at Jake, a smile on my face.

"They're cute." I cooed.

He grinned at his daughters. "Yes they are!"

I shook my head. "I meant Cole and Emily. But our girls are adorable too."

He glanced over at the hot tub. "They aren't looking very adorable right now."

"What?" I glanced back over at them. And sure enough, they'd gone from playfully wrestling to making out again. Honestly? What's gotten into them? Emily was completely underwater and Cole was hovering above her and this was a recipe for disaster. Or maybe just for Jake and I. Maybe they could control themselves better than we could.

"Well they _were _innocently flirting." I defended myself. I glanced back at Jake. "What's gotten into them? They've never been all over each other like this before."

A twin was hanging off both of Jake's arms. He swung them back and forth and attempted to answer my question at the same time.

"Not sure. Maybe we're a bad influence."

I rolled my eyes. "As much as I know you'd love to make this all about you, I highly doubt that is it."

Jake shrugged. "Worth a try." He turned toward the hot tub. "Hey! NO FORNICATING IN MY HOT TUB!"

Odette clung to her father's arm and crawled her way up into his arms.

"YEAH! NO FOR...FOR…FORNIC…NO DOING WHAT DADDY SAID IN HIS FREAKING HORSE HOT TUB!" Odette screeched.

Cole and Emily sprang apart, embarrassed looks covering their faces.

I think it's definitely time for steak.

* * *

**COLE's POV:**

So I was having a problem keeping the pain in my jaw off my mind, and my hands off Emily. Same old, same old. I was refusing to let Oliver ruin my eating or my sex life, as much as he wished he could. So I ate steak and ignored the pain, and I kissed Emily and ignored the pain. I'm too much of a man to give up steak and making out with my girlfriend over a little injury.

When Emily and I entered the apartment, she immediately pulled me to her. I think I created a monster. A monster that I rather enjoy.

I kissed her back just as enthusiastically and I couldn't remember why I hadn't wanted this change pre-sex. We made love in our bed this time and it was even better than the previous time. She didn't seemed half as nervous.

She curled up in my arms afterwards, her hair completely dry now and her perfume still as potent as before. Her smell overall was enchanting: coconut and vanilla from her shampoo, and a citrusy scent from her perfume. I pulled a blanket over our bare bodies and she seemed thankful for that. She pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"I love you." She reminded me.

"I love you too." I replied. I held her tightly, unsure if it was normal to love something this much. I loved her so much that almost every time I saw her I wanted to pull her against me and bury myself inside her fragrant skin. I wanted to make her smile and kiss away her tears and just be with her.

She let her head fall over my heart. Her hair was soft as it spilled over my skin.

"Cole? Do you want to have children someday?"

Her breath was warm as it skidded across my chest. I allowed myself to think seriously about her question before I answered it. But I knew I already knew my answer. I set a hand on her head and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Do _you_?" I asked.

She lifted her head and raised her eyebrow, a small smile on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen. It was adorable and sexy at the same time.

"I asked you first."

She lay her head back down and I shut my eyes. Her smell lulled me.

"Yes." I answered honestly. I felt her head lift and her eyes on my face. I felt her smile.

"Me too. Boys or girls?"

I opened my eyes and met hers. I considered her question.

"Both." I smiled. She smiled too.

"How many?" She asked. She sat up and seemed so happy. I realized something: she loved talking of the future. Maybe because it's the only thing she thinks she can count on.

"At least 22." I teased. She grinned and rested a hand over her abdomen over the blanket.

"Well, we better get busy soon because each baby requires at least eight months in the oven."

I gripped her arms with my fingers and turned us so my body was pressed right against hers. I winked. She blushed and fell into fits of laughter.

"Think 'baby'." She joked. She lifted her head and pressed her lips to mine. She pulled back.

"But seriously, what names do you like?" Her eyes were swimming in curiosity.

I thought.

I turned names over in my mind. I turned them over in my mouth with my tongue as if they were smooth, small pebbles. I thought of all of them I could: Madison, Ashley, Scarlett, Jane, Anna. I focused on the way the sounded and the way they felt and what kind of immediate mental picture they issued. None of them seemed to work.

I glanced at Emily. I pictured her flat stomach swelling out. I pictured her holding a small baby in a pink blanket. I pictured myself finger painting with a dark-headed toddler with a white ribbon in her hair.

The correct name fell into my lap. I picked it up and it reminded me of green fields, white daisies, and smiling.

"Emma." I said. It sounded perfect when it rolled out of my mouth.

Emily's smile grew. "What are the odds? That's one of my favorites. My top is Ella. They're both similar, actually."

Emma. It made me long for a paintbrush.

I rolled back on my back and pulled Emily with me, so she was lying on top of me. She giggled and turned so she fell off of me and landed beside me. She curled up to my side and I wrapped an arm around her.

I felt content and ready to sleep. I let my eyes shut. She suddenly sat up again and my body was too cold without hers. I sat up.

She had a guilty look on her face.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" I asked.

She set her hands on her warm cheeks and sighed, looking distressed. She pulled at her hair nervously.

"I need to tell you something."

Anxiety immediately seeped into the pit of my stomach.

"What?" I asked.

She pulled the blanket tightly around her naked body. She leaned back down against me and I took that as a good sign.

"It's nothing that I intentionally kept from you. I just…I don't know. I never felt like it was important to tell you." She said quickly.

I pushed her hair back from her face.

"What is it, Em?" I asked. "You know nothing you say would ever change how I love you."

She smiled. "I know." She kissed my jaw—which was aching pretty terribly, by the way—and lay back down. She held my hands and inspected them for at least a minute. She looked up at me. "When I was thirteen, I was bulimic for a while."

Holy shit. I looked down at her, my eyebrows raised and my mouth open in shock. Worry replaced the anxiety.

"What? Why?" I demanded. Claire wasn't hard on them. She didn't bully her dancers like that stupid dance instructor Emily had now.

She swallowed tears and looked ashamed. "It's one of my biggest regrets." She admitted. "But…I don't know. I was best friends with this girl Amelia and she did it. She made it sound so…necessary. She made me feel like an idiot for _not _doing it. And after I started, girls started complimenting me on how I looked, so I felt like I was doing the right thing."

She pulled nervously at the blanket, knotting it in her hands and then letting it fall. I grabbed her hands, stilling them.

"When did you stop?" I asked.

She smiled at me. "Once again, I have you to thank for that."

I looked at her in surprise. "Me? What did I do?"

"Do you remember sex education? The only class we had together before I switched to the magnet school?" She asked.

I grinned. "Yeah, but I try to ignore everything we learned in there."

She laughed. "Do you remember that documentary we saw on ballerinas and how they're anorexic and bulimic a lot?"

I nodded.

She sighed. "I saw your face after watching it. You looked so disgusted and disturbed. And I knew that wasn't something you found admirable. So…I stopped. And I haven't done it since." She let a silence drift in the room. All I could hear was the ceiling fan and her breathing. "I guess you've always had complete control over me." She whispered.

I kissed her again. She seemed to melt against me.

"You remember our first time?" I whispered.

She smiled widely. "I would hope so, seeing as though it was only a day ago."

I laughed along with her at my own expense.

I pulled her back into my arms and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Do you remember what you said to me afterwards?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded. I pulled her closer and kissed her nose.

"I would die for you too." I whispered.

And the scariest part of all this was that I really meant it.

* * *

**EMILY'S POV:**

The recital came before I even had time to catch my breath from the dress rehearsals.

Angie chattered cheerfully while we got ready in the dressing room backstage, and I wanted to throw up. I could hear the people in the audience chattering and shuffling around and it made my stomach clench. I took deep breaths and reminded myself that if I couldn't handle this crowd, I couldn't handle the one in New York.

But it wasn't the people I didn't know.

It was the fact that Cole and my mother were in the second row. And I wanted to make them proud. I wanted to do my best.

It was also the fact that in just two hours, I was going to be telling the instructor off for everything she'd done to me. I was going to resign from her abuse, from this school, from these musty dressing rooms.

Angie gently pulled my hair brush out of my hand. My costume was on already and I was trying to do my hair, but I kept getting distracted. I let her run the brush through it and pull it up while I stared at the off-white walls. The paint was peeling. There was only one mirror in this entire dressing room, and ten girls were fighting over it. There was one circular window at the top of the wall, but other than that, it was just dingy white walls, black folding chairs, and a lot of bags and tights and shoes littering the dusty floor.

She gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze once my hair was securely up. I turned around on the bench and smiled at her, hoping that worked as a thank you.

"Are you getting stage fright?" She asked, a teasing smile covering her face. "Miss Prima Ballerina is getting _stage fright_?"

I swallowed nervously and smiled weakly. "I am not the prima ballerina here."

She pulled at her tutu. "I know. But you should be."

Our costumes this time were aggravating. It consisted of bright red platter tutus with black lace that extended straight out from our hips, white tights, and a red corset with black lace running down the front. I was just as nervous before performing _Swan Lake, _but I also looked forward to that. I didn't look forward to performing the instructor's dances, even if they were good. I really had no reason to be nervous, though. She shoved me in the second row for most of the dances. Apparently I wasn't thin enough to be in the first row.

A stagehand entered the room.

"Five minutes." He reminded us.

Many girls scrambled to do last minute makeup touchups. My face felt suffocated under the stage makeup. The bright red lipstick was especially aggravating. I had to constantly run my tongue over my teeth to make sure it wasn't smearing on there.

"Okay," Angie said. She stood up and twirled around gracefully. She came to a stop in front of me and rested her hands on her hips, right above the tutu. "How do I look?"

I smiled. "Absolutely gorgeous. Is my lipstick smeared?"

She shook her head. "Nope! You're good!"

I nodded and glanced in a handheld mirror a few times just to make sure. Our five minutes was up before I knew it. I made sure my shoes were tied correctly and spun a few times in place for extra assurance. I breathed deeply.

"Come on, Em!" Angie said impatiently, pre-show jitters making her bouncy and excited. She pulled impatiently on my hand and I followed her out of the dressing room into the large, black, open backstage area. I walked up and peeked out of the curtains. The stage was lit up so brightly that it was blinding. I could barely make out Cole's blonde hair in the second row. Angie peered behind me.

"I see your hot fiancée." She teased. "You better watch out, I might steal him."

I grinned. "Okay. Then I call dibs on Gabe."

We both laughed easily, not the least bit threatened by the conversation because we trusted each other to never do that. She was the only friend that I _knew _would _never _do that to me.

The instructor appeared.

"Alright. You're on in two minutes. I don't want to see any sloppy shit out there. You girls looked amazing at dress rehearsal. Let's see that again tonight." She whispered.

We all nodded, our breathing a little labored from the excitement and/or anxiety.

"Oken! Sharon!" She said suddenly. We looked up at her. She motioned for us to walk over. I crossed the floor, moving through the crowds of dancers, knocking into a few tutus. Was she really going to scream at me before going on? I don't need this.

"I'm going to need you two to take your rings off, please. They're distracting." She stated.

Sharon and I shared glances. She immediately slid hers off her finger and offered it to the instructor. She closed her hand around it. I faltered.

"Cole spent a lot of money on this." I said uneasily. What if she "lost" it just to get back at me?

She rolled her eyes.

"Troublesome as usual, Oken. I'm not going to lose your ring. Give it to me."

I stared at her, the fingers on my right hand touching my ring uncertainly.

"Give me the damn ring or you're not going on stage." She hissed.

I pulled it over my knuckle, but stopped, my mind swirling with uneasiness. Surely there was an insurance policy on the ring. But how could Cole ever forgive me if I lost this? How could I forgive myself? I wouldn't even be able to dance that well on stage if I was worried the entire time about the ring.

Gary, an elderly stage hand, walked over. He opened a small ziplock bag.

"I'll keep this bag right in my pocket the entire time. I promise." He smiled kindly. I smiled back to him and let the ring fall into my other hand. I dropped it into the plastic bag and watched him seal it carefully and then place it in his shirt pocket. I trusted him a lot more.

Ms. Sue walked over to the other dancers. I heard them begin walking on stage. I felt like running away. But I forced myself to walk on stage.

The spotlights were hot against my skin, and I always loved how they kept me from seeing the audience. I used to pretend they weren't there and stare into the black distance. We all found our spots on stage, and even though we were up there together, I felt just as exposed as I would alone.

The faster-paced music coursed through the speakers. I cleared my mind and danced. I danced like I was practicing alone in Claire's studio, or like I was just dancing for Cole. And before I even knew it, the song was over and we fell still to listen to the deafening applause that made all of this worth it.

We did four more songs in this costume, and then the intermission began. We were ushered off stage and back into the dressing rooms. We quickly began pulling these costumes off and pulling our green ones on. I was in a daze.

"How do you think it went?" Angie asked. She struggled into her corset, her boobs making that a lot harder than it should have been.

"I honestly don't know." I admitted. I smiled. I liked it this way.

We just barely made it into the other costume when we were called back backstage. I peeked out from behind the curtains and this time I met Cole's eye. He grinned at me, his eyes crinkling at the edges. I smiled back and felt my knees going a little weak. He mouthed something at me, but I couldn't read his lips. I shrugged and smiled at him again before disappearing back behind the curtain.

The first dance we did was my favorite. It was slow, beautiful, and everything ballet should have been. The instructor actually put me on the first row for this one, and I had to stare at the ceiling to keep from automatically meeting Cole's eyes again and falling off balance. I think he knew what I was doing, because I swear I heard him laugh over the music.

After endless pirouettes and fouettés, the recital was over, and my body was aching, though not nearly as badly as it did after _Swan Lake. _I felt the familiar free feeling I felt after completing a recital, the feeling that made it all worth it. I felt like I had been born again.

The cheering made me smile and I peered out into the audience, trying to spot the people I loved, but so many people stood up and were walking to the stage to see their loved ones. I stood there until I spotted Cole's hair. I walked over to the far left of the stage and he grinned up at me. I sat down on the edge of the stage and he pulled himself up beside me. He wrapped an arm around me and kissed me.

"You were amazing." He praised. He pushed a bouquet of beautiful white and lavender tulips into my hands. I smelled them and hugged him again.

"Thank you." I mumbled into his shirt. He rubbed my back and kissed my hair.

I saw my dad making his way over, and I was still kind of angry at him, so I stood up.

"I'll meet you out here in a minute. I'm going to go change." I muttered. Cole nodded and I parted from him, passing him my flowers to hold first. I hurried to the dressing room, doing a few grande jetés on the way. I was so happy I didn't even remember why I had wanted to tell the instructor off. Maybe that wasn't necessary. I could just resign and let it be at that.

The girls were talking loudly in the dressing room as they shed out of their costumes. Angie yanked me over to her and hugged me.

"That went so much better than rehearsals!" She exclaimed happily. I smiled.

"I think so too!"

I pulled my shoes and my costume off and changed quickly into my clothes. I was ready to get back out there to Cole.

By the time I made it into the auditorium, the majority of the people had cleared out. Cole and his family and my dad and Claire and Lydia were waiting by the stage. I hurried over to them and my dad pulled me into his arms.

"You were fantastic, Emmy." He exclaimed. I smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, Daddy."

Claire handed me a bouquet of pink tiger lilies. She hugged me.

"Your form has never looked better. That first piece after the intermission almost made me cry. Your pirouettes were _amazing_. I'm so proud of you, my little Maria Taglioni."

I pulled out of her arms and thanked her.

Miley pushed her way through the crowd.

"I _did _cry. Then Jake made fun of me. You're beautiful, honey." She also handed me flowers (yellow and pink roses this time).

I was overwhelmed and my arms were full of flowers, but I was happier than I'd been in a long time. I didn't think the night could get better.

And then Lydia walked up to me. She also handed me a bouquet of flowers, simple but beautiful wildflowers this time. She smiled at me.

"I've never been so proud to say I'm somebody's mother." She whispered, a secret between me and her. I hugged her tightly, getting precariously close to accidentally crushing my flowers between us, and she seemed pleasantly surprised by my sudden affection. She squeezed me back.

Cole finally made it back to my side. He pulled some of the flowers out of my arms and kissed my cheek. I loved him.

"I'm going to take these to the car." He said, looking down at the flowers. I handed him the ones in my arms.

"Thanks."

He nodded, a grin still on his beautiful face. I watched him walk off to the car.

I was convinced my day couldn't be ruined.

Until the instructor appeared.

She shoved the bag with my ring back into my hand, a scowl on her face.

"You didn't trust me with your ring, but you forgot to go get it?" She demanded.

I felt my stomach drop to my knees and I quickly placed it back on my ring finger where it never should have left.

"I didn't forget. I was going to get it from Gary." I defended myself.

She laughed bitterly. "Right. We all know your memory sucks. You couldn't even remember to hold your head up straight. Your posture was disgusting."

Unhappiness quickly smothered all the good feelings I had and I got the same feeling of inadequacy she always made me feel. I remembered why I wanted to tell her off right then. The hatred mixed with the sadness and I tried to figure out a way to tear them away from each other so I could scream, or cry, instead of just standing here in shock while the two emotions battled it out.

I glanced over my shoulder, praying no one could see what was happening. My dad and Miley and everyone else were a few feet back. I looked back up at the instructor.

"Sorry." I finally whispered.

A grimace covered her face. "I don't know why New York even wants you. You'd be the last ballerina I'd pick out of all these. You care the least. You're lazy. You think you can get by with whatever you want. You don't want it badly enough. You don't deserve it."

Each sentence was like a punch to my gut.

I searched for the strength to tell her off.

I couldn't find it.

My eyes filled with tears and I wanted to run far away. I just didn't want to deal with it anymore.

And then my mother appeared.

She stared at the scene. I saw her from over the dance instructor's shoulder. She didn't see my mother.

"You're sloppy, unrefined, fat, and immature." Ms. Sue hissed, her eyes filled with pure hatred.

Lydia walked over. She set a hand on my shoulder and stared at Ms. Sue.

"Excuse me?" She asked, staring Ms. Sue straight in the face.

Ms. Sue seemed a little intimidated. "I was just talking to Emily about her technique."

Lydia laughed a laugh that could only be described as bitchy. "Really? Because I heard you calling my daughter fat. Like you have any room to be talking. You're a fucking fat ass. You've got a stomach that's seen better days and McDonald's thighs. Emily is beautiful. You're pathetic. She told me about what happened with your daughter. You're just so pissed your daughter isn't as good as my daughter that you're taking it on her."

Ms. Sue looked extremely insulted, and suddenly I felt sick. I couldn't let my mother fight my battles just like everyone had always done for me because I'm so afraid to stand up for myself. I can't let her win again. My hands were quivering when I looked up and met her eyes, but at least I was going to say _something_.

I saw Cole join us from the corner of my eyes. I didn't glance at him. I kept my eyes glued to Ms. Sue's face.

"From the moment you've come here, you've tried your hardest to make my life a living Hell." I whispered. My voice was shaking and I struggled to keep the tears out of it. "You've put me down so much that I've started to believe everything you say. I stopped eating for a while, and then I just felt like I wasn't worth anything. You screwed up my relationship. You screwed up my self-esteem. You screwed up _me_."

Ms. Sue didn't say anything. She just stared into me, her gray eyes colder than usual.

"But I'm going to New York. They picked me. I'm doing something that you weren't good enough to do." I whispered. "I'm getting married. That's also something you never managed to do. So, tell me, how are you better than me?"

She didn't say anything.

I wanted to hit her. More than I'd ever wanted anything my entire life. But I just took a deep breath.

"I quit." I muttered.

Her jaw dropped at that. Cole stepped forward.

"Hey, bitch! Remember me? Yeah. I'm sure you do. After all, I "threatened to kill your cat". I don't appreciate the bullshit lies you told _Star_. It's pretty stupid. But if you want another story for them, tell them this: I'm going to _destroy _you. I'm going to drown your damn cat! Fuck off, whore."

She gasped.

Dad chose that moment to walk over.

"Is this the woman you told me about, Lydia?" He asked. Lydia nodded. The instructor backed up slightly, intimidated by all the people.

Dad had a friendly smile on his face. He motioned for the instructor to come to him with his let's-be-friends grin. She hesitantly moved forward, trusting him automatically as most women did. He grasped his hand around her arm.

"Hurt my little girl again, and I'll rip your intestines out of your ass and strangle you with them!" He said cheerfully. Ms. Sue cringed away from him in fear, obviously thinking he was insane.

Jake joined the party.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Dad pointed at the instructor. "That bitch has been verbally abusing Emily."

Jake narrowed his eyes. "Bitch must want a fight! Don't mess with Emily unless you want to answer to me! She's part of my family."

Claire walked up. Even I was overwhelmed. I leaned against Cole.

"Amber Sue, right? I saw you perform a few years back. You looked like crap." She snapped.

The instructor stared at all of us, her eyes wide, and then backed up slowly. She hurried out of the auditorium, her shoulders shaking.

I couldn't talk. I just cried. I know it should have made me feel happy to have all these people jump to my defense. But I couldn't help but feel like I failed to stand up for myself once again.

She made me feel like a failure even when I was telling her off.

How can she do that?

Why do I let her?

Cole wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I looked up at his blue eyes.

"It's going to be okay," He whispered, because he always knew when something wasn't right with me.

It would be okay once I got away from that woman. I was on my way to being okay. I was over this speed bump and I was back on the road to where I was supposed to be.

Cole grasped my hand and guided me out of the auditorium into the cool, dark night.

I looked up at him. The moonlight danced on his skin.

"I'm okay." I said.

He smiled. "I know. Let's get out of here."

As we walked to his car, I spotted Ms. Sue's. I wondered if her feelings were hurt. I wonder if what we said made her cry. I wonder if what we said broke her.

I hoped it did.

I didn't care.

But of course I did.


	19. Tide

**A/n: **You don't even want to know how many times I've rewritten this chapter. This still isn't the best I can do, but I figured it was time to give up. I don't really have a valid excuse for why this is so late, so I'm going to blame BP, my ovaries, Obama, and the makers of Stride gum. (Hopefully) happy readings! Thank you all for the reviews last chapter. Hopefully you find something worth reviewing in this chapter. I apologize for it. I _promise_ the next will be better :)

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**"It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order-and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order." - Douglas Hostadter **

**"She'd like nothing better than to steal the breath from me." - Faith Hill, "Paris" **

To be honest, the stage lipstick was very attractive.

Maybe it was just because under the moonlight it looked less bright and more matte and sexy. Maybe it was because it made me remember a game called rainbow that used to be played at parties. Maybe it was because it was different. I don't know why. But I liked it.

Emily didn't seem to agree. She ran her thumb over her bottom lip, obviously trying to remove some of it. She repeated that action a few more times until she just gave up. It looked like there were at least fifteen layers of deep red lipstick on her mouth. It took me like five minutes to get it off me when I kissed her after the show. That part about the lipstick was not attractive.

She climbed into the front seat of my car and I quickly hurried over to my door, eager to get home. I was tired and really just wanted to curl up in bed with her.

Of course, it seemed our friends had slightly different plans for the night.

"HEY! CR! SHITHEAD!"

I wasn't going to turn around, but the "shithead" automatically pissed me off. I sighed and spun around, coming face to face with Gavin and his girlfriend Sherry or whatever the fuck it was. Gavin was still as cheerful as ever, a startling white smile consuming his dark face and his arm around the Sherry girl who had a figure like a third grade boy (like most of the other girls I'd seen on stage tonight).

"What the fuck do you want?" I snapped. We pumped fists anyway and shook hands momentarily, leaning forward with our clasped hands between us and clapping each other's shoulders. Over the years I noticed that when I was anywhere with rich, upper-class guys, they did this strict, disciplined handshake. Whenever I was around guys like Gavin and Michael and Connor or any of the other guys from the same general background the immediate response was the weird handshake-hug combo that lasted at the most one second but had straight street credibility. Girls fucking squeezed the shit out of each other and hugged for like ten minutes. The difference in the two genders hugging styles was interesting.

Sherry or Susan or whatever walked around the car and I heard Emily roll down the window.

"Fuck you, man! I just wanted to see if you and Emily wanted to go out to eat with me and Shar and a few other couples." He said, a smile on his face even when he was cussing me out. "Michael ain't coming." He immediately added.

I looked through my car window and met Emily's gaze. She shrugged. I shrugged also. Then she nodded her head a little. Damn. I really just wanted to go home with her. I think I'm addicted to holding her in my arms.

I glanced back at Gavin.

"We're in. Where are we eating? We'll meet you there."

He gave me vague directions to this new restaurant that sounded suspiciously like a Hooters-wannabe and then he left with Chardonnay/Sherrie/Susan/Susie to make reservations for all of us. We had to go home first because I knew Emily would want to take a shower and change.

I pulled the door open, somehow almost smacking myself in the face in the process (I gained revenge on the door by slamming my fist against it), and slid into the driver's seat. Emily stared out the window, a soft smile on her face. I automatically smiled in response. She turned slightly in the seat, pulling her right leg up into the seat and tucking it under her. Her smile began to look slightly mischievous, the look I only ever saw when we were doing or about to do something sexual.

I hesitated before I put the key into the ignition, automatically suspicious. I ran my finger over the metal of the car key and stared at her, not even bothering to ask my question because I knew she could tell from my expression.

She set her hands on the middle console between our seats and leaned forward a bit, and I couldn't help but notice that when she did, her arms pressed her boobs together and her cleavage increased dramatically. I quickly forced my eyes to look at hers. She didn't seem to notice my lapse in eye-to-eye contact. Her rare grin stayed in place.

"…what?" I finally asked hesitantly when I realized she wasn't going to say anything.

She set a hand on my hand and grasped it.

"You look cute when you're fighting with the car door." She smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. "We've been through this. I'm not cute! Cute is what you say to describe baby turtles!"

She squeezed her lips together tightly, as if she was holding back laughter. She nodded seriously.

"Sorry."

I sighed and started the car. I glanced back at her before putting it in reverse.

"_You're _cute." I explained.

She rested her chin in her palm. "I look like a baby turtle?"

I slowly backed out of the parking space, making sure that instructor bitch didn't come barreling out of nowhere into our car. I put it in drive and pulled back out onto the road. I glanced back at Emily.

"No way. But cute isn't a masculine term. It's a feminine term. Unless you're referring to a boy dog or baby." I said.

She leaned back against the seat. She pulled her legs up and rested her knees against the door. She turned her head toward me.

"That's kind of sexist." She said. "I'm strong." She jokingly flexed her bicep. I immediately laughed, but stopped when I saw her eyebrow rise.

"Okay. How about we just don't use that word anymore unless we're talking about babies, children, or animals?" I suggested.

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan." She reached over and set a hand on my forearm. She leaned over and kissed me. I loved kissing her, but I could only see her closed eyes, smooth forehead, and hair when I opened my eyes, and that was a problem because I was driving a motor vehicle.

She quickly pulled back just as I was beginning to feel really nervous. She leaned against my arm. Sadness for Emily was like a fragrance. Sometimes it seemed to be gone, but once everything else calmed down, I could sense its presence again. I wrapped my right arm around her shoulders and I knew that it was the right thing to do. She pressed her face against me.

We didn't say anything else the entire ride back to the apartment, except for when I was trying to pass this slow-ass truck and he also tried to merge lanes when I was right beside him. We both yelled at him.

We carried all the flowers up to the apartment. We didn't have any vases, so we placed them in coffee mugs full of water. Most of them were placed in the kitchen, but Emily placed the ones I got her in the bedroom, and that made me smile. I guess no one else knew her favorite flowers were tulips.

She took a shower and I laid down on the bed. I was slightly tired even though I really didn't have any reason to be. Earlier today I went to some substitute teacher workshop. It was a complete snooze. They taught us things that were basically common sense. I was subbing for Mrs. Vera for like two weeks, starting the first day of school, which was next week.

I stared at the remote on the nightstand, hoping if I stared at it long enough it would fly over to me. The fan was spinning so fast I thought it might fall out of the ceiling but it was _still _hot. I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off and slid across the bed, grabbing the remote off the table. I idly flipped through channels, settling on The Food Network until my stomach was growling so loudly I would have bet Emily could hear it over the shower. I watched some music videos for a little while, even though the songs were obnoxious and painful. Three lives seemed to have passed by the time Emily came out of the bathroom, a red towel wrapped around her and her toothbrush in her hand. She glanced at the clock and her eyes widened. She began brushing her teeth so furiously that I just knew she was going to cut her gums. She stood in front of the dresser and opened drawers. Her towel slid down a bit as she frantically searched through the drawers and I really wanted to pull her over to me.

I never really had much impulse control, so naturally I slid to the end of the bed and reached out, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her back into my lap. When she sat on her towel it slipped even more. I kissed her cheek and she turned around, her cheeks flushed and her nose shiny from the shower. Her stage makeup was smeared all under her eyes. It almost looked like she had been crying black tears.

She pulled her toothbrush from her mouth.

"Hi." She greeted.

I grinned. "Hi."

She slid off of me and laid back, pulling me down with her. She curled up against me, her wet toothbrush touching my bare chest. It tickled.

"I miss you." She whispered. She glanced up at me. The black crud around her eyes was bugging me. I had a strong urge to wipe it off.

"I miss you too." I muttered, even though we'd only gone a few hours without each other.

She kissed me and sat up, one hand gripping the towel shut and another holding her toothbrush. She stood up and walked into the bathroom, gurgling some water and setting her toothbrush back in the holder. She came back to me as she always did.

I pulled her back against me. Her hair was wet and I watched the circle of moisture it made on the sheet as she laid her head down. Water slid down the length of her hair and slowly separated from the hair at the ends, dropping onto the already damp towel. I didn't think about what we could do with her naked beside me; I just held onto her body. It was peaceful.

I kissed her cheek, noticing that red lipstick was _still _there. That bothered me too. Before, it was sexy. Now I just wanted her face the way it always was. I wanted to be able to kiss her without worrying about that contagious lipstick attacking my lips. I reached down and set my fingers on her soft lips. I softly pulled my hand across, wiping all the easily-smeared red lipstick on my hand and off of her mouth. I rubbed the lipstick off onto the sheets and she simply stared up at me, her eyes full of curiosity and affection. I could see the question simmering under her shimmering gaze.

"I want to be able to kiss you wherever I want without having to worry about leaving a lipstick trial." I answered her unasked question.

She smiled gently; her lips still tinted a faded red.

"I know why you did it," she murmured. Her eyes studied my face with that extremely probing glance of hers. Making love to her while staring her in the eyes is one of the most powerful things I've ever experienced. She lifted the truth out of me so easily.

She continued.

"I was just wondering why you haven't kissed me yet." She muttered, a foreign but distantly-familiar confidence surrounding her. I grinned down at her and smoothed a hand up her soft leg until her lips parted and she leaned towards me.

I closed the space between us and gently kissed her, surprised as I always was at how perfectly our lips molded together. Her upper lip fit perfectly between mine. I pulled back and she protested with a short sound.

"What was why I waited." I clarified. "For that."

She reluctantly forced herself into a sitting position. I sat up too. Stupid plans.

"I really like kissing you. But I should probably get ready. We're already going to be late." She sighed. I laid back on the bed and picked the remote control back up.

"No problem. We have plenty of time to kiss each other." I grinned.

She set a hand on my leg and playfully tugged at the material of my pants.

"Good point." She muttered, a smile still present on her face. She sat there, almost in a dream-state, fiddling with the bottom of my pants.

"Do my pants captivate you?" I asked, bewildered.

She looked up at me as if she just remembered where she was. She laughed suddenly.

"I am _really_ tired." She explained. She laid back down on the bed temporarily. She forced herself up and she stood up, reluctantly going toward the closet.

Once she was dressed, she consumed a cup of coffee. She was wearing a dress I'd only seen her wear once. I remembered it because she wore it to my graduation and the entire time I just stared at her. It was a strapless periwinkle colored eyelet lace dress and it was shorter than most of the dresses she wore. I just remember how amazing her legs looked in it. I almost missed my name being called because of this dress.

"You look beautiful." I said. She smiled into her cup of coffee. She took a sip, wincing at the hot temperature. She wrapped her hands around the mug and lowered it.

"Thanks. I like your look too, but are you going to put a shirt on? You know I don't mind, but I don't want all the other girls drooling." She took another sip of her coffee, wincing once again. I was beginning to believe the coffee just tasted like shit.

Oh. Shirt.

"Yeah, I just forgot. I'll go put one on." I said.

I wonder if the restaurant would let me in without a shirt. Probably not. I think that's against the health code.

I pulled my shirt back on and buttoned it. It was so white it made my eyes water. This is the last time I let my mother "suggest" what I wear. I was content wearing normal clothes to the recital, but my mother convinced me black pants and a white button down shirt was necessary. Dress clothes are never necessary. She already had me in a habit of dressing like a rich kid. All I ever wore growing up were fucking polo shirts, button down shirts, khakis, black dress pants, and jeans. Sometimes she let me wear t-shirts in public. But her and my grandmother bought me those types of clothing all the time, so it was really all I had to wear. I was the only guy who would come to wild parties dressed like I was going to a fucking golf tournament. I blame my rich family, even though dressing like this helped me get a lot of girls. That and the fact my parents were famous.

Emily leaned into the room. Her hair swung like a dark curtain and her dress was a little too short for her to be slightly-bent like that. I was very close to seeing her underwear.

"Are you coming?" She asked.

I bit my tongue against the automatic-perverted response. Her smirk matched mine. She slid her hands off the door frame and stepped into the room.

"Go ahead and say it." She sighed.

I worked to keep the smile off my face. "Say what?" I asked innocently.

She walked over and leaned against me. I wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Right. We'll pretend you didn't have a dirty answer to that question." She laughed. She looped her arm around me and began walking forward, dragging me behind her.

"Okay." I said. "But just so you know…I'm not coming. Not yet."

She forced me out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into her car. The seats smelled like some place tropical. I buckled up while she flipped through the songs on a CD, searching for something. She finally found the song she wanted. She put her seatbelt on and backed out of the parking place.

She sang along to music I didn't know and I stared out of the window, strangely dreading spending time with everyone. We were halfway there when Emily suddenly turned down the music.

"Cole?" She asked.

I turned in the seat and glanced at her. She was staring at the road, both her hands tight on the steering wheel. She sat with her back perfectly straight, up close to the wheel. She carefully switched lanes and then glanced at me. She bit her lip.

"Is it weird that I'm dreading the baby being born?" She finally asked.

Truthfully, I expected this reaction a long time ago. I expected her to not want Oliver to get married. I expected her to freak out when she knew Claire was going to have a baby. Her _not _dreading it would be weird to me.

"No way. Why do you dread it?" I questioned.

She glanced back at the road and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, still chewing at her lip.

"What if my dad loves the baby more than me?" She finally asked, embarrassment laced in the question.

I smiled and set my hand on her thigh. I rubbed comforting circles on the skin with my thumb.

"There's no way on Earth he'll love that baby more than you. He practically worships you."

She sighed.

"But the baby wouldn't leave him." She muttered.

"Take this turn." I said quickly, pointing at the left turning lane. She nodded. I continued. "One day she will. I think this baby will just make your dad less clingy. She won't make him love you any less."

She stopped and waited for the light to change. She turned completely to face me. All her stage makeup was cleaned off and her eyes were clear again.

"Promise?" She asked.

I kissed her.

"Swear."

She smiled and turned back around in her seat. Sooner than I would have liked it, we were in the restaurant parking lot.

I thought about a painting I was working on while we walked to the table. I was jerked from my peaceful thoughts by a bitch.

"Whoa! What the fuck is she doing here?" I demanded, glaring at Caitlyn. She turned around in her chair at the circular table and offered me an innocent smile. That smile was counteracted by the fact that her boobs were practically hanging out of her skin-tight red dress.

Michael, who was sitting beside her, turned around too. "Cole! What's up, man?"

I directed the glare at him. "What are you doing here?" I snapped.

I felt Emily's hand leave mine. She wordlessly sat down beside Angie. The only seat left now was between Caitlyn and Emily. I hate my life.

Michael glared. "Don't act like a cocksucker."

I pointed at Caitlyn. "Don't bring the cocksucker places then."

Caitlyn's eyes narrowed and a smirk crossed her face. Gavin and Angie's boyfriend Gabe were roaring with laughter.

Michael turned around wordlessly. Caitlyn followed his lead. Emily reached and grabbed my hand. She pulled gently.

"Just sit down. It'll be okay." She whispered.

Angie winked over Emily's shoulder. "I got your back, Cole. I'll kick her herpes-infested ass."

Emily and I had been on a few double dates with Angie and Gabe. They were pretty cool. Gabe was kind of mean and I had this feeling he got abusive when he was drunk, but other than that, the double dates were fun. At least there was no Caitlyn.

I made a show of pushing my seat right against Emily's. I sat down, angling my body away from Caitlyn and towards Emily. My legs were pressed right against Em's. She made more space by lifting her legs and resting them on top of mine.

I could feel Caitlyn's gaze against my back, and it made me very uncomfortable. I tried to ignore it.

"Have you two decided where the wedding is going to be?" Angie asked excitedly. Her yellow dress was strapless and extremely tight on her large rack. Gabe stared at her cleavage with a bored expression on his face, stabbing at his salad with his fork.

I glanced back at Emily. She met my gaze. We hadn't really discussed it. She looked back at Angie.

"Not really. Why? Do you know a good place?" She asked.

Angie nodded and excitedly told us all about this beautiful, old church in a field near the ocean. Emily seemed enthralled by Angie's descriptions and the pictures on her camera.

"What do you think?" She asked me, the prettiest smile on her face. I smiled.

"I think it's perfect." I answered, even though I hadn't really been paying attention to it much. She grinned happily. We all got in a conversation about this new musician who sounded like an autotuned beaver. I was rudely disturbed by a fingernail running along my back. I immediately scooted closer Emily, accidentally knocking her chair into Angie's, causing Angie to splash her drink on her lap.

"Sorry!" Emily apologized. I turned around and glanced at Caitlyn. She met my eyes innocently.

"I need to tell you something." She whispered. Her lips were coated in lipstick similar to the kind Emily was wearing before. It didn't look as sexy on her.

"Leave me the fuck alone." I snapped. I turned back around.

She set a hand on my back again. I spun around.

"_What_?" I hissed.

I could feel everyone watching us. She stood up.

"Maybe we should talk privately."

Oh fuck no. She'll probably try to jump me again.

"No. Either you tell me here, or you leave me alone." I said.

An evil smirk covered her face. "You don't want me to tell you now."

I felt like stabbing myself in the face with my butter knife.

"Okay. Then don't." I snapped.

I turned back around, toward Emily. The entire table—minus Michael and Caitlyn—got into a spirited conversation that efficiently took my mind off Caitlyn. I was actually having fun when our waitress arrived.

I felt the cold water from the drinks she was bringing us seep into my body. I bent my head, thinking God was definitely punishing me for something. Why else would the girl I lost my virginity to be our waitress?

"I'm Annabell and I'll be your server this evening. Are you guys ready to order?" She asked.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

She went around the table getting orders. By the time she made it to me, I still hadn't come up with an escape plan. I tried to hide behind the menu.

"I'll take the steak with a baked potato." I said quickly, picking the first thing I saw. She reached for the menu after she wrote it down and pulled it out of my hands. I reluctantly looked up at her. A sly smile had covered her face. She closed the menu and set it in the stack in her arms, tucking the notebook with our orders into her apron.

"Cole Ryan." She said, that same smile covering her face. She was still as pretty as she had always been, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Her full, pink lips were still as tempting as ever.

"Hi, Annabell." I muttered.

She set her hand on the back of my chair. Um, she is invading my personal space bubble. Sexual harassment.

"How have you been?" She asked.

I could feel Emily's eyes on me. Angie whispered something to her and I saw Emily shrug out of the corner of my eye.

"Good, good. How about you?" I quickly asked.

She ran her fingers through her hair. "Fine. I'm just working and going to school."

I nodded. Her eyes burned into mine and I remembered the first thing she said to me after we had sex. _You know, we'd have such beautiful blue eyed babies. _Truthfully, that comment was what ruined things between us. Even after a sex-high I couldn't keep that comment from freaking me out. She was really nice and smart, but very committed. She wanted us to be serious. I just wanted to escape reality. We didn't work together. I didn't have any ill feelings for her though. I thought she was a really good person. I really liked her personality and I still think she's beautiful. I mean, you never forget the person you have sex with for the first time. I just didn't really want to have to tell Emily who she was.

"That's cool. What are you majoring in?" I fumbled for things to say so I wasn't rude.

Her smile was pretty. She smelled the same as she did five years ago—like lavender. Soothing. The thing I admired most about her was her ambition. Laying in bed with her, I remember wishing some of it would rub off on me. It didn't.

"Pre-med. I'm going to be an obstetrician."

I nodded awkwardly. "That's nice."

She shifted the menus to her other arm.

"What are you doing here? I heard you were over in Europe." Her eyes darted over to Emily momentarily, as if assessing our relationship. She knew who she was because when we were "dating" she saw pictures of us in my parents' house.

"Europe? Who said I was in Europe?" I asked, confused.

A bell was rang and she glanced nervously over her shoulder. She backed up, beginning to walk away.

"Um, Maria Steel. From high school? I have to go. I'll see you when I bring your orders back." She called. She turned around and walked back to the kitchen. Her ass was still really nice. No! I shouldn't think that. But it's just a fact. I can't help but think it.

I turned around in my seat. The table was silent.

Caitlyn seemed to love this. "Did you fuck her or something?" She asked.

I refused to look at Caitlyn. "You know, just because you want to fuck me and you can't doesn't mean you have any right to act like a bitch to me."

She snorted. "Oh no. I have a right to act like a bitch to you for another reason."

I glanced at her, my confusion outweighing my anger and discomfort. She had the look of someone who had something on me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

She smoothed her hands out on the table. She inspected her nails. "You'll see eventually." She murmured indifferently.

I shook my head and turned around. Emily was wordlessly stirring her water with her spoon, attempting to make the lemon more potent I guess.

She didn't ask anything.

I wrapped an arm around her.

"The past doesn't mean anything when you think of the future." I mumbled to her, a simple reminder that it didn't matter who I was with before. She was the only person I was going to be with for the rest of my life.

She looked at me. She leaned forward and kissed me, smiling slightly against my lips.

"Get a room!" Gavin complained.

Emily pulled back and glared at Gavin. He jokingly flipped her off.

"Kiss my ass!" She teasingly told him, her attempt to sound dangerous falling short. He immediately began laughing.

"I'll be sure to do that. I just have to get your fiancée's permission first." Gavin turned to me. "CR, can I kiss your girl's ass?"

I took a sip of my water.

"Sure. Just make sure to bring her home when you're done." I replied. Emily knocked shoulders with me.

Angie leaned forward, meeting my eyes.

"What? We're exchanging partners? Do I get my fifteen minutes of fame with you, Mr. Ryan?" She demanded.

I winked. "Fifteen minutes? You underestimate me."

She immediately began laughing. Gabe didn't seem so impressed. Emily reached over and patted his hand.

"Don't worry. You can have Sharon."

He looked across the table at Sherry or whatever (Gavin's fiancée). She shrugged, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Well, I was planning on taking Caitlyn, but I guess he can join our party." She said.

Caitlyn was the queen of seductive looks. Red heat crawled up Gabe's neck at the look she gave him. Ha! I'm not the only man who blushes.

Michael seemed upset. "What about me?" He pouted.

Gavin reached over and set a hand on his arm. He creepily caressed up Michael's forearm, an evil glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, bro. You can join my party." He winked.

Michael shuddered and Gavin howled with laughter. Emily leaned over and pressed her lips near my ear.

"Like hell he can! Michael's the last person at this table I'd have sex with!" She exclaimed.

"Really? You'd do Caitlyn before Michael?" I whispered back.

She nodded. "Oh yeah. I _hate _Michael."

The idea of her and Caitlyn together was very hot. I wasn't the first time it had crossed my mind. And once I thought about that, I automatically thought about her and Angie. Damn. I was doing so well with keeping my thoughts PG-13. Guess that's over.

I slammed my hands down on the table. "Fuck, let's all just do each other. Orgy party at my apartment."

Michael got a little too excited. "Are you serious?"

Gavin pushed his salad around on his plate.

"Michael, I think you're homo more and more each day." He admitted.

Caitlyn leaned into him.

"Oh, he's not gay. I can vouch for that." She purred.

Angie gagged. "Please, doll, spare us the details."

Something inside of Caitlyn seemed to be stirring. She shifted in her chair, her upper lip curling up in a scary grin. She leaned toward me, her boobs rubbing against my arm. I immediately set my feet firmly against the floor and pushed my seat far back from the table.

Caitlyn didn't look upset.

She scooted her chair where mine was.

Emily stared at her, a confused expression on her face.

Caitlyn smiled. It reminded me of the look a predator might give easy prey.

And then she leaned in and pressed her lips right against Emily's.

Michael dropped his fork, choking noises coming from this throat.

I think I stopped breathing.

Emily's eyes were wide while Caitlyn moved her lips against hers. She yanked her face away from Caitlyn's. She lifted her hand, as if to slap Caitlyn, but she seemed too confused about what happened to do anything.

"Umm…" Angie said.

Gavin scratched his head, bewildered. Sharon had her hand over her mouth.

Michael looked like it was his birthday.

"Do it again!" He exclaimed.

"…What the fuck?" I asked.

If a guy had walked up to my girl and kissed her, I'd beat his ass. I never really had a game plan for what to do if a woman kissed her. Umm…

Caitlyn leaned back in her seat. Emily was just staring at her, her eyes wide, her cheeks flaming.

"…your food is ready."

We all looked up. Annabell and another server were setting a large tray with all our plates on a stand. She gave me a weird, questioning look. I shrugged in response. They set our plates in front of us. Caitlyn moved her seat back and I cautiously moved my seat between her and Emily's, feeling like that was the best place for me to be right now. Once Annabell and the server left, silence fell over us again.

Emily was still staring, the most confused expression on her face.

She leaned toward me.

"What just happened?" She hissed.

I glanced at Caitlyn. She had a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"…I think your ex-best friend just kissed you." I responded.

Emily leaned forward, glancing at Caitlyn.

"What was _that_?" She demanded.

Caitlyn pulled her fork out of her cloth napkin. She neatly spread the napkin on her lap.

"I heard your sex comment. Thought I might try out our sexual chemistry. We had great friendship chemistry. We still do. Your lips taste good. Like apples."

That's what I thought too! This is weird…

Emily shook her head, puzzlement solid around her. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it, unsure.

"First of all…that comment was a joke. I am not sexually interested in you. And yours tasted horrible." She finally settled with. Her voice didn't sound malignant. She was just stating a fact.

Caitlyn grinned. "It's because I put on cherry flavored lip gloss. And you hate cherry."

Strangely, a small smile was on Emily's face. "Yeah. I do. Didn't expect you to remember that."

Caitlyn smiled back. "You were my best friend. I still love you. I remember everything about you."

Okay. Wait. Did a random lesbian kiss between them just make them friends again? I am so confused. I knew this dinner was a terrible idea. Caitlyn is just weird. This is all probably part of some evil scheme to get me in her bed. Plus, that kiss should have been super hot. But instead I feel very confused and uncomfortable.

I voiced my confusion.

"So now you two are friends? Because she just kissed you?"

Angie seemed just as confused as me. She turned to me. "I think we should bounce and go get drunk."

I nodded in agreement. "This is definitely too weird for me. My orgy comment was a joke, but apparently some of us took it a little too seriously…"

Caitlyn probably just did that because she knew it was the strangest thing she could do right now that would cause the most discomfort. She's a bitch.

Emily still looked so confused that I thought she might start crying. She pushed her chair back away from the table. She awkwardly stood up.

"I…think…I should go?" She asked. She glanced at me, searching for answers. I didn't have any. I shrugged. I stood up too. I really wanted my steak, but I could get it in a to-go box I guess.

Emily looked at me.

"Am I supposed to be angry about this?" She whispered.

"I honestly don't know…" I responded.

Caitlyn stood up too.

"Oh come on, Emily, what's a friendly kiss between two friends?" She asked innocently.

Gavin immediately started laughing. He clapped Michael on the shoulder.

"Yeah, Michael, what's a kiss between friends?"

He jokingly leaned in, his lips getting scarily close to Michael's cheek. Michael leaned back so far his chair fell over. He jumped up, kicking the chair.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? YOU ARE ALL FUCKING WEIRD!" He screamed. He backed up, looking like a cornered animal.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around.

I guess we forgot that there were other people at the restaurant. Mostly everyone was staring at us. The person tapping my shoulder happened to be the owner.

"How do I say this nicely…" He pondered. "Oh. Like this: get the hell out of my restaurant!" He yelled.

Five minutes later we were all standing in the parking lot, our food in to-go boxes.

It was still awkwardly quiet.

Angie broke the silence.

"Okay. So Caitlyn kissed Emily. Girls kiss each other all the time. It's not that weird. Let's just pretend it never happened." She proposed.

Michael grinned. "Oh no. I'm never letting that mental image out of my mind."

Emily gagged. I still think she'd probably do Caitlyn before Michael. She just really hates him. I don't blame her. Sometimes I hate him too.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he turned to me.

"Now listen. About that orgy party. You should invite your mother."

It was really hard to keep myself from punching him.

"Stop with the disgusting comments about my mother!" I demanded. "It's been going on long enough!"

He grinned. "I can't help it. She's a MILF."

I clenched my fists and teeth. "She's married!"

Michael sighed. "I always forget about that." He paused. "Oh well."

Gabe spoke for the first time that night.

"You guys make me want to drink myself in oblivion." He muttered. He had massive muscles and he was one guy I wouldn't fuck with.

Emily took a hesitant step toward her car.

"I think I need to go home." She muttered.

We all parted. Once Emily and I were in the car, she quickly locked the doors as if she thought Caitlyn might come and kiss her again.

She sat there. She glanced at me.

"What the hell?" She finally said.

I sighed. "I think it's that dress. You just look irresistible in it. I guess Caitlyn couldn't help herself."

Emily groaned in embarrassment. "Shut up!"

"What? I'm serious. I'm having problems keeping my hands off you too." I barely got the sentence out before I finally burst into laughter. My mind seemed have decided the appropriate reaction to this was laughter.

After a moment, Emily began laughing as well. We sat in the car under the dingy streetlight in the parking lot, laughing, for almost five minutes. My stomach was seriously hurting from hunger and laughing so long. I finally stopped for fear I'd die. Emily's laughter died down along with mine.

She started the car.

"I wonder what my dad would say to that." She mused. "He's not a fan of people kissing me."

I started laughing again. "You should tell him!"

She giggled along with me. "Oh, he'd _love _that! 'Hey, daddy, last night a girl kissed me' he'd go INSANE!"

A thought crossed my mind and I started laughing even harder. I pushed the words past my laughter. "Do you realize now we've both been kissed by the same person?"

She started laughing harder also.

"Next thing you know she's going to come after both of us!" I exclaimed.

We laughed for a few more minutes. When the only thing left was an occasional laugh, she spoke.

"But in all seriousness, I need to go home and scrub my lips with my toothbrush. And then I need to boil it." She said.

I nodded. "Good idea. I refuse to kiss you until you get the Caitlyn germs off."

She laughed lightly. She glanced at me.

"What was Caitlyn talking about at the beginning? What did she need to tell you?" She asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. But knowing Caitlyn, it's probably nothing important."

And for a moment, I had a strange feeling overcome me. I felt like I'd been taken advantage of, kind of like Emily must have felt. My mind struggled to think of something, some memory that I had forgotten, but it couldn't grasp it. Feelings of guilt and anxiety overcame me and I wasn't even sure why.

Emily noticed.

"Cole?" She asked. "What's wrong?"

I quickly covered the emotions that were playing out on my face.

"Nothing." I said quickly.

But for something that was nothing, it felt really big.

* * *

**MILEY's POV: **

"Mommy?"

I paused at the doorway. I turned around and stared into the room. The blue light from the moon drifted into the darkness and casted shadows on Odette's face as she lay down to sleep. The yellow light from the hallway bathed Adeline. She sat up in her bed; her arms gripping Prince Corey so tightly he would have suffocated had he been real, and her lips quivering slightly.

I set a hand on the doorway and leaned into their room slightly.

"What is it, Addie?" I whispered. I was so tired I felt like exhaustion had to be a solid thing. A solid thing that was attached to each of my bones and weighing me down. It was tiring to even lift my arm. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep for years. It had been months since I'd gotten a full night's sleep or even managed to sleep until eight AM, and it was taking a serious toll on me.

She squeezed Prince Corey tighter and pressed her face into his sticky mane. I washed that unicorn weekly, but somehow he still managed to be sticky from fallen lollipops or dollops of maple syrup. I forced my heavy feet across the room and I sat down on the edge of the bed. I smoothed a hand over her soft hair and kissed her cool forehead.

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked again. She moved Prince Corey a bit so her green eyes were visible. She sniffed.

"I'm scared." She whispered.

Odette turned restlessly in her bed. "Would you guys please be quiet?" She snapped.

I sighed. I opened my arms and Adeline crawled into them. I lifted her up and set her on my hip. She rested her face into the crook of my neck, Prince Corey still in her arms. I set a hand on Odette's cheek as we walked out.

"Sorry, Odette. Night. I love you." I whispered at the doorway.

She yawned. "I love you too."

She turned back over and pulled her green blanket up over her small shoulders. I left the door cracked so the dog could get in later—Paint drifted between their room and the living room and usually ended up sleeping on their floor—and carried Adeline down the hallway and into my room.

Jake was sitting at the small desk beside the stairs. His cell phone was pressed to his ear and he looked unbelievably stressed. I shot him a questionable glance and he grimaced in response.

I sat Adeline down on the bed. She crawled up to the pillows and curled up in the middle of the blankets. I lay down beside her and I felt like I might never move.

"What are you scared of, Adeline?" I asked.

She shook her head and pressed her face back into her stuffed animal. I ran a hand tiredly over my face and lifted my head, glancing at Jake. He was leaning his forehead against the railing of the stairs and looked like he very much wanted to ram his head into it. He talked quietly with the person on the line, and I assumed by his clipped, professional tones that it was his agent or director.

I glanced back at Adeline. Her face was still hidden in her stuffed animal. I reached over and wrapped my hand around the soft body of the unicorn and gently pulled it away from her.

She squeaked and protested immediately, pulling it back to her. I loved her so much. She was my baby. But I had to get some answers. This nightmare thing has been going on for so long. I can't just keep placing bandaids over it if I want it to heal. I need to actually stitch this wound up, even if it hurts both of us at the start.

I pulled the unicorn out of her arms so she couldn't hide behind it.

"No!" She yelled. She reached for him. I gently restrained her hands and turned, setting him on the nightstand carefully. I turned back to her. Her eyes were full of tears and a few rolled over her lower eyelid, dripping down her face slowly. I brushed the tears off and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"He'll be fine, I promise. I won't let anything happen to him. But I need you to stop hiding behind him, okay?" I said gently. A few more tears spilled over before she sniffed and nodded.

I smiled. "That's my girl." I brushed her hair back from her face because it was sticking to her tear-stained face. "Now, what are you scared of?"

She started to lower her face, but realized she didn't have her unicorn to hide it in anymore. Her lip quivered again.

"I don't know." She finally whispered.

I rubbed my eyes. Sleepiness was causing my eyelids to feel so heavy and my eyes itchy. I took a deep breath and fought with myself. The part of me that was so tired just wanted to let her sleep here and let it go, but I just couldn't do that anymore.

"Yes you do." I said softly, making sure my voice never hardened or sounded impatient. Her tears matted her eyelashes together and she grabbed the blanket and used it to mop up her tears.

"I'm scared to go to sleep." She admitted.

I nodded and reached for her. I held her to me and she hid her face against me. It seemed to me that she was always hiding. Even in the womb she hid behind her sister, barely moving, always feeble. I didn't know if that was just her personality, or if it was because Odette overshadowed her and always had, even in utero. They were just so different.

"I know you don't like to talk about it," I started. She pressed her small hands to my back and I could feel her crying in fear. I forced myself to continue. "But I need you to tell me what your bad dreams are about."

I glanced at the alarm clock while I waited for her to talk. It was already ten. She really needed to get to sleep. The twins had their first day of kindergarten tomorrow and that was definitely something they had to be well-rested for.

"Looking." She said.

I gently pulled her back from me. I stared at her eyes that she got from her daddy. I wiped her tears away again.

"Looking? Looking for what?" I pressed.

She sniffed.

"People." She muttered.

I frowned.

"Like who? Where did they go?" I inquired.

She leaned back against me.

I sighed again. "Addie?"

"Looking for C and you and daddy and Odette and Paint and Emily and Abby and Aunt Lana and everyone. They went away. I can't ever find them." She rushed out.

I hugged her tightly.

"Adeline, we are never going anywhere. Never. We're your family and you're stuck with us forever." I whispered.

She pulled her face back and looked up at me.

"C is going away. He's leaving. He told me." She argued, her lower lip trembling again.

I glanced helplessly in Jake's direction. I wanted to soothe her fears, but I feared the same ones as her. Something broken never could fix something else broken. He met my eyes and nodded once, swiftly ending his conversation and hanging up the phone. He stood up and walked over, sitting down beside Adeline on the bed.

"Sweet Addie?" He cooed. Adeline immediately turned toward Jake. She smiled lightly and moved into his arms. He hugged her tightly and kissed her head.

"She thinks Cole is leaving forever." I whispered to him. His frowned matched mine. He brushed a hand down her hair and softly gripped her little arms, pulling her back so he could meet her eyes.

"C is an adult, right?" He started carefully.

Adeline thought for a moment. Finally, she nodded.

"I guess so." She muttered.

Jake smiled at her and jokingly pressed his nose to hers, giving her an Eskimo kiss. She giggled happily and her tears seemed to evaporate. I smiled so widely at the scene that it hurt.

"Well…when kids grow up into adults, they have to leave home." He continued, his nose still pressed to her tiny one. She nodded seriously, accidentally knocking her forehead against his temple. They both laughed and he moved his head back.

"Like when C left our house?" She said.

He nodded.

"And grownups have jobs. Sometimes, their jobs make them move to other places. Cole has to move because of Emily's job." He explained.

"Because he loves her." She clarified.

Jake laughed. "Yes, because he loves her." He continued. "But he is _not_ leaving forever. You'll still see him. Maybe not as much as you do now, but your brother isn't going anywhere. Your mom would never allow it." Jake joked. He smiled at me over Adeline's shoulder. I smiled back.

Adeline sniffed. "I wouldn't allow it either!"

I set a hand on her shoulder.

"I know your dreams are scary, but they're fake. Just remember that nothing in your dreams can hurt you. You will always wake up from the nightmare." I said.

At least, when she's a kid she will. I've been stuck in a few nightmares, but eventually even the real-life ones end. Or at least fade. Sometimes I want to go to his grave. I wake up in the middle of the night, tears in my eyes, my heart pounding, and I think that I would like nothing more than to go to his grave. Every now and then I even get to the front door, my shoes on and my keys in my hand. I want to stand in front of the stone. I want to look at it in the moonlight and tell him: _look at what you've done to me. I can't drive my children to the Chuckie E. Cheese's on that street. I can't hear the rain without thinking about it. February twenty-eighth is hell for me. I fall apart. Jake has to get someone to watch my babies just so he can take care of me, like I'm some invalid. But even through all that, I think the worst part is that I can't look in the mirror and see just me. I see you too. You have defined my entire life and every decision I make. I try so hard to overcome the memories by doing little things like driving down that street, or letting your daughter come into my home. But you are still there, just like you always wanted to be. _

But it wouldn't help anything. It would just worry and upset Jake. It'd make him angry. We're at a point where we can semi-comfortably talk about Joy and Isabella. But we're not at the point where we can talk about what Luke did to me yet. I didn't want to talk about it anyway. I already had to deal with what happened to me every single day of my entire life. Talking about it just forces me to deal with it verbally as well as mentally. It's adding insult to injury. Time is what it takes. Going to his grave would just set the progress back even further.

Jake slid off the bed with Adeline still in his arms. She complained immediately when she knew where we were taking her.

"I don't wanna sleep in my bed. I wanna sleep here." She whined.

"I know, honey, but you've got to learn to sleep in your own bed. If you sleep in it all night tonight I'll buy you a present tomorrow."

She considered that carefully. I reached and grabbed Prince Corey, handing him back to her. She held tightly to him.

"Can I get Prince Corey's sister?" She asked.

There was a pink stuffed unicorn at the mall she saw when she was with Lana. She declared the unicorn Princess Coreyanna, Corey's twin sister.

"Sure, honey. We'll get you Prince Corey's sister." Jake agreed.

She sighed. "I guess I can try sleeping in my bed."

Jake carefully pushed open her bedroom door. We quietly walked in, making sure to not wake Odette. Jake set Adeline down on her bed.

"That's my brave girl. I love you. Night." He whispered. She kissed him and laid back on her pillows, looking apprehensive. Jake stood up and sat on the edge of Odette's bed, smoothing back her light hair. I looked back at Adeline. I tucked her into bed and kissed her. She hugged me tightly.

"I love you. You can do this. Just remember the nightmares aren't real." I said.

She nodded and let go of me. She laid back down.

"Night, Mommy." She whispered. "I love you."

"Night, Addie. I love you too."

I stood up. Jake rose from Odette's bed and followed me out of Adeline and Odette's room. We left the door open. We tiptoed down the hallway and retreated into our room, shutting the door behind us.

Jake smiled. "Well, I think we handled that rather well!" He said happily. He walked over to the bed and fell down on it. I followed him.

I glanced at him.

"What was going on before?" I asked, referring to his phone conversation.

He shook his head. "Just work stuff. Don't worry about it." He rolled over on his side and kissed me. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

Nervousness filled me. I didn't think I was ready to see the twins go to kindergarten. But I had to be.

"Not at all. But it has to happen." I said. I sighed.

Jake's eyes bore into mine.

"Can you believe they've already been here for five years? It feels like no time and forever has passed, all at the same time. I can't imagine our family without them, but it doesn't feel like it's been that long since they were born."

I smiled. "I know exactly how you feel."

Jake stroked my waist and kissed my neck. "Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to drop them off?"

I knew that phone call was probably about how many filming days he's missed. I knew he was probably in trouble and on the brink of getting fired. And somehow, knowing all that, it made his offer mean a lot more. He promised me he would always put his family before acting, and I would have been a fool to ever doubt that.

"That depends. Will you get fired from your movie if you do?" I asked. Acting meant a lot to him and I wasn't going to take it away.

He shrugged. "If I do, I do. I care about our family more. You want me to go. I'm coming."

I _did _want him to. I needed him to. But I didn't know if could let him.

"But you love acting." I argued.

He smiled. He leaned down and kissed me.

"Love you more." He sang. He kissed me again.

I kissed him back. "Fine. But don't blame me if you get fired."

He winked. "I won't be that upset. After all, it gives us more time to spend together."

"And by _together_, you mean literally _together_, right?"

"Sex is a big part of love." He confirmed my statement.

I pulled the blanket up over my body.

"I think in a past life you were a priest and you're making up for the years of sexual repression." I said.

He pondered over that. "Perhaps…"

Tomorrow would probably be difficult. But at least I could count on a few inappropriate jokes from my husband to cheer me up.


	20. Alone

**A/N:** Okay so I know it's been almost a year since I updated, and if anyone is actually still around to read this, I'm really sorry! Senior year was insane. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things though. So if anyone is still interested in this story, I'm gonna try to finish it! This chapter is really short. If I continue this further the others won't be short like this! I just really wanted to go ahead and get something out here. And it's probably really rusty seeing as though I haven't written in almost an entire year, which is really crazy but whatever. Anyway if you're still interested in this story please let me know somehow (review, PM, whatever). I'm sorry again guys. I never thought I was the kind of writer who would do that :/ Guess you learn new things about yourself every day.

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**"And I don't want to be alone. Sky, don't let the sun go. I'm not ready for the darkness, swear upon a heartless soul. And I don't want to cry when you go." - Sara Bareilles, "Not Alone"**

**"Something's happening, things are changing soon." – Hilary Duff, "Metamorphosis."**

COLE'S POV:

My first thought that morning when the alarm clock jerked me from sleep was that I never imagined my life being like this.

I sat up and stared at the ceiling fan in the dusky blue light and that sentence just replayed over and over again. _I never imagined my life being like this. I never imagined my life being like this. I never imagined my life being like this. _

But the sentence didn't have the bitter, disappointed tone I would have thought it in just a few weeks ago. I glanced over at Emily's form under the blanket and felt something almost akin to pride rising in me. She was beautiful, she was going to be mine, I have an actual job, and all of this somehow makes me not a failure. _I never imagined my life being like this. _

Even thirteen days ago I never would have felt like this. Thirteen days ago I succumbed to drugs. Thirteen days ago I failed Emily, I failed my parents, I failed the twins, and I failed myself. But this felt like change. This felt like a sunrise or a long drive to a new state or holding a newborn baby. It felt nice.

I rolled over and curled up next to Emily. I rested my face against her hair and even the coconut and vanilla smell made me happy. She shifted slightly and then reached up and rested a hand on the top of my head.

"Good morning." She mumbled, eyes still shut. I smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Good morning to you too." I replied. She ran her fingers through my hair sleepily.

"You sound happy." She noted, her voice still thick with sleep. I found it beautiful that she could tell that just from one simple sentence. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to my chest.

"I love you."

She sighed contently. "I love you too."

Eventually the morning began and I found myself actually excited. I couldn't wait to get to the school. I couldn't wait to teach children all about art. I found the excitement so reassuring I almost wanted to cry. I had thought the only thing in the world as far as jobs goes that could make me happy was being an artist, but actually this could make me happy too. There is no moment as lifting as the moment you realize that the thing you thought your happiness relied on actually isn't the only option after all.

"Shit!"

I was in the process of towel-drying my hair when I began to hear expletives erupt from the kitchen. I tightened the towel around my waist and made my way into the scene of whatever disaster was unfolding.

I was greeted by an interesting sight. Emily—who's never touched an iron before in her life, I'm pretty positive—standing in a bathrobe at the kitchen counter, attempting to iron the dress shirt I was planning on wearing to work today. She was nursing her finger and glaring at the iron as if it were its fault. I walked over and cleared my throat. She glanced up at me with a very defensive look.

"I know what I'm doing!" She immediately exclaimed. She picked the iron back up and start to try and go back over the shirt. I watched her for a few moments, unsure whether to let her have this one or to take it away before she harmed herself. She set the iron down and sighed.

"I'm about to get married and I can't even iron a shirt. That is pathetic." She turned and leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, something I was beginning to associate directly with an action she took whenever her self-esteem plummeted. I pushed the iron further toward the middle of the counter so she wouldn't hit it accidentally and wrapped my arm around her waist.

"Girls as pretty as you don't need to iron shirts. They marry rich guys who hire maids to do that." I teased. She smiled a bit but still I could see that little bit of panic that had drifted into her eyes. Her self esteem problems had gotten much better from when she was under the dance instructor's tyrannical rule and from when we told her off nine days ago, but she was still forever damaged by it. Any moment that she felt like she wasn't good enough caused it all to come rushing back over her. It was painful to watch. She'd sink into herself and you could practically see the panic take over her.

I tried to think of the best way to make her feel better. I always felt a little panicked in these moments too, because I was terrified of not knowing what to say to make it better.

I grabbed her hand with the injured finger and kissed it.

"You did a wonderful job ironing my shirt. Thank you." I grabbed the shirt off the counter and examined it, and actually, she did do a pretty good job. She looked at it too. She leaned into me and signed.

"I guess there's not too many wrinkles left."

I grinned. "There's not! It's perfect. It's crisp enough to look professional but not stiff enough to look like I'm some tool."

She smiled softly and I considered that a victory. She put the iron away and we ate cereal in our bathrobes/towels. I was halfway through my bowl of Lucky Charms when someone knocked on the door to the apartment.

"My dad." Emily immediately predicted.

"My mom." I guessed.

She set her spoon down and stood up, making her way to the door. I liked the way her body looked in her bathrobe. It was mid-thigh length and coral colored. I probably just liked it because I liked the fact that she was naked underneath it, though.

She peeked through the peephole and immediately I could see her shoulders tense with worry. That made me start to worry immediately and I rose from my chair also. She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open.

She gently pulled the person into the apartment, and suddenly I felt the most strong fury rise inside of me. Angie stood there looking almost catatonic, her eyes dull. Her right eye was surrounded by deep purple skin and she had a large bruise shading her cheekbone. Who did this to her? I had only just recently begun to hang out with Angie, so I was surprised at how protective I suddenly felt over her. But suddenly I thought of her like she were my own sister, and I wanted to kill whoever did that.

"Oh my God! What happened?" Emily demanded, her voice shaking. She grabbed Angie's hand and led her over to the chair Emily had recently vacated. Angie sank down in the chair and didn't say anything, only gripped Emily's hand tighter. I decided to make myself useful and busied myself with getting ice in a washcloth for Angie's eye.

"Gabe did this, didn't he?" Emily asked, her voice gentle and filled with pain. And suddenly I heard one of the most terrifying sounds I have ever heard. A sob broke loose of Angie with such a force that I could momentarily feel her pain too. The sob filled the kitchen and I didn't have to look at her to know her entire body was shaking. Sob over sob pealed out of her and I couldn't move. There's nothing quite as scary as seeing someone who is normally tough and optimistic break down.

I glanced quickly over at them and the sight was heartbreaking. Emily had her arms around her friend and looked so lost. Angie sobbed heavily into Emily's shoulder and gripped her arm tightly, as if she were afraid that if she let go of Emily she'd be back with Gabe getting beaten again.

I always knew that piece of fucking shit was fucking worthless. I could tell from the start. I always had this vibe that he hit her, and now I knew for sure. And I wanted nothing than to find him and beat the shit out of him. I was seething. I quickly walked over and handed the washcloth with ice to Emily, who grabbed it and placed it on the table. She shot me a grateful look. I felt like it was time to disappear into the other room. After all, this was a job for a best friend, and Angie and I weren't that close.

Emily stopped my departure.

"Could you make some coffee?" She asked quietly.

I nodded. That probably would be a good idea for everyone. I walked back over to the counter and busied myself with that, trying to ignore the pained sounds of Angie crying. Emily held her while she cried for a very long time. By the time I'd poured out three cups of coffee, Angie was still crying.

"She takes her coffee black. You know how I like mine. Thank you again." Emily muttered to me. I nodded and doctored hers and mine up. I carried all three very carefully to the table and sat them down.

Emily, who had been sharing the chair with Angie, stood up after gently pulling herself out of Angie's grip. She grabbed Angie's cup and handed it to her. Angie wrapped her hands around it and her crying slowed a bit. Emily sat back down in the same chair again and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"I'm going to make this better, Ang. We're going to make this better. He's not going to do this anymore." Emily whispered. She reached over and grabbed my hand.

"You should finish getting ready for work. It's almost time to go."

I had forgotten all about that in the chaos of the moment. I glanced at the clock. I only had five minutes until I needed to leave the apartment. I was hesitant to go, though. I was afraid Gabe would come back looking for Angie and find her here.

Angie reached out and grabbed onto my other hand suddenly. I glanced at her and she had such fear in her green eyes that it made me scared too.

"I'm afraid." She croaked.

It flattered me that she saw me as protection from Gabe, a gigantic man. I glanced at Emily. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving them here unprotected.

"You have to go, Cole. I'll call my dad to come over here and sit with us." Emily told me.

That made me feel a bit better. Oliver would die before he let something happen to Emily or someone she cared about.

"I'm not leaving until he gets here." I demanded.

Emily called her father immediately, and he promised to be there as soon as possible. I expected him to arrive in no less than ten minutes. Angie seemed to feel safer with me in the room, so I pulled up the other chair and sat across from her and Emily.

"I'm scared." Angie whispered again.

Emily stroked her hair. "It's okay. Cole is here now and my dad is coming so when he leaves we have someone else here."

Angie sniffed. "I'm scared to be alone." She whispered in a voice so small it upset me.

"You're not alone, Angie. We're not going to leave you alone." Emily promised.

She shook her head and the tears started up again. "I'm not scared to be alone because I think he'll hurt me again. I'm scared to be without him. I'm scared to leave him. I'm scared to be alone. I'm scared to have no one who cares about me. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared!" She started sobbing again.

Emily looked so sad. I hated it. I wanted to make her happiness come back. I hated Gabe.

"Listen to me." Emily said. "You will never be alone. You are one of my best friends. You will always have me, and your family and friends, and Cole, and all our friends. You don't need that piece of shit excuse for a human being. You are better than that. You are worth so much more than that. You don't deserve to be beaten; you don't deserve to be called names. You deserve someone who will treat you right. Don't settle for this horrible man just because you're afraid to be alone, because you'll never be alone. You don't need a man to be worth something, especially one as horrible as Gabe."

But Angie was inconsolable at this point. She cried until Oliver arrived, and kept at it even when he entered the kitchen. He immediately rushed over and put his arm around her. As far as I knew he'd only met her a handful of times, but in this moment he was treating her like a daughter. I knew him and Emily would have no trouble making her feel loads better. They were really good at that kind of stuff.

I walked back into the bedroom and shut the door and finished getting ready. By the time I made it back to the kitchen, Angie was looking a bit better.

Emily stood up and hugged me. I kissed her quickly and she hugged me again.

"Are you sure I should go?" I asked.

She pulled back and nodded. "It will be fine. Call me during your lunch break. Have a good day!"

I nodded, unsure now whether or not it would be. I had been so certain before that it would, but now I was feeling like there had been a change in the weather.

I walked to my car and found myself thanking God that he put me with Emily, because as undeserving of her beauty and heart as I was, at least I would never, ever hurt her.

* * *

Do you know what it feels like to be completely and utterly alone?

Caitlyn felt this question roll around her mind all day long without the slightest reprise. It knocked back and forth back and forth inside of her like a marble in a mason jar. She longed to toss it at everyone she saw: the check out lady at the drug store, the maid at her grandfather's house, the nurse who brought her mother apple sauce every day, the bank teller, the harried mother sitting beside her on the bench. She wanted to spit it at them and watch their faces as they try and think of the correct answer.

She sat at the park and watched the children fight over the last swing and realized that no one on this earth will ever know the kind of loneliness that she has known. No one will ever understand that kind of aloneness, that level of solitude. The only man who would have ever perhaps understood was dead (and wouldn't have had enough compassion to relate to her anyway).

She looked at the woman sitting beside her. She examined her wrinkled khakis, her starched white button down with an oatmeal stain on the cuff, her wedding ring, her phone that kept going off every moment. She took in her dry hair and tired eyes and chapped lips. And she knew that this woman has never known any sort of loneliness. She could look at her and know her entire day. The woman wakes up, gets her kids ready for school, kisses them before she puts them on the school bus, irons her husband's tie, kisses him goodbye and hands him a lunch, goes to work where she chats idly with coworkers, has lunch with her best friend and runs a few errands, comes home just as her children are getting off the bus, talks with them about their day, makes dinner, kisses her husband when he comes home, watches a movie with her family, talks to her husband before she falls asleep, and then the cycle starts all over again. The Perfect Life. The Perfect American Life. The Cure for Loneliness. There were so many different things to title that woman's day.

Caitlyn felt hatred of the most powerful kind rising up inside of her. She turned away from the mother and dug her nails into her forearm, a nasty habit she picked up recently. She closed her eyes and dug her nails further and further into her flesh, feeling pain so real that she almost felt like she was perching on the edge of a cliff, teetering. She finally let her hand fall back in her lap when the pain reached such a point that she visualized herself tumbling off the edge. She opened her eyes and took in the bright green grass and breathed. It was okay. It was all okay. So she was alone. Whatever.

Her spirits lifted when she spotted the reason she was sitting at the park in the first place. She smiled and loved the golden hues in his hair, the pure blue of his eyes, the way he walked like he had a secret. She loved loved loved the way his eyes darted nervously back and forth and the way he kept shoving his hand in his pocket as if he were making sure he hadn't lost anything. She loved him.

She felt herself rising up as he drew closer to her. In her mind he was coming to see her. In her mind everything was for her: the worry lurking in his eyes, the dreamlike way he contemplated everything, the worn hands. He was hers. In her mind he walked right up to her and held her and declared that she was his and he was hers and they were each others and no one else existed.

Her mind was not real, though. Sometimes she had a difficult time remembering that. Sometimes that scared her.

He spotted her.

His sweet smile that formed as soon as he saw the kids playing on the playground, that was sometimes was the only reason she forced herself out of bed in the morning, evaporated. His walk altered to an angry march as he made his way over to her. She crossed her legs and gently pulled on her red tank top so her cleavage would show more. The little things like that accumulate to be the big thing that woos a man.

He stopped square in front of her.

"This shit is getting so old, Caitlyn. Can you _please_, with cherries on top, leave me the fuck alone?" He snapped.

The woman sitting beside Caitlyn shifted in offense and glared at him. He noticed her for the first time and his eyes widened.

"My apologies for the offensive language. This girl has just been stalking me for like…ever, and I'm getting really sick of it." He muttered.

The woman grimaced. "I would suggest dealing with those matters off school property."

She stood up and walked over to the playground to gather up her children. Caitlyn watched her march them off the playground and up to the front door of the school where she would walk them each to class, kiss them goodbye, and then begin the next phase of her day when she was no longer known as Mommy.

Caitlyn turned her attention back to him. He signed in exasperation.

"Look, I'm already late. I've had a rough morning. Can you just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me so I can be on my way?" He asked. He stood staring at her expectantly for at least two minutes. She stared evenly back, a smug smile overtaking her face. She could easily tell him what she wanted to, but she felt it was wiser to save the information. A better opportunity to use it to her advantage could arise. She dreamed of telling his fiancée first, as that would cause the most chaos.

He sighed again, this time in obvious frustration. He sat down beside her on the bench and turned to face her.

"Okay, I'll tell you what you wanted to tell me for you. 'Cole, I'm in love with you. I want you to pick me. I love you. We belong together. Blah blah blah.' There. Now, let me go ahead and give you my response for the millionth time so you can be on your way and get the hell out of my life. Caitlyn, I do not want to be with you. Your father was a psychopath who destroyed my mother and father's lives, and you take just after him. You are obsessed with me and it's really fucking creepy and weird and pathetic. You have no chance with me. No chance whatsoever. Nothing you say or do will change that. So I'm going to need you to back up off me, hop off my dick, and exit my life. Okay?"

He stood up after his speech. He stood in front of her again and waited for a reaction.

Caitlyn felt the sentence hovering on the edge of her tongue. _I am pregnant with your child. I am pregnant with your child. You have to love me now. You have to love me now. _

She swallowed the sentence and simply rested a hand over her abdomen. Save it.

"Okay." She simply told him. She smirked.

He glared. "You're fucking impossible."

Caitlyn knew this. She was impossible all right. Impossible to handle, impossible to love, impossible to make sense of, impossible to act rationally. Possible is something she never would nor would strive to be, because that would mean she was no longer a fighter.

"I'll see you later, Cole." She smiled and waved.

He flipped her off and marched off. Caitlyn sat still, a smile still poised on her lips. She watched him walk up to the front doors of the school.

And suddenly, she felt for the most fleeting moment that she was no longer alone. She watched Cole stop on his journey to the school to help a little girl who was crying. He kneeled down in front of her and looked at her with such care that someone might have thought she was his daughter.

She had him forever.


	21. Light

**A/N: **If I could bake you all a cake, I would. It makes me so happy to know that some of you are still interested in this story! Thank you so much for the input last chapter and for taking the time to read. I don't know for sure if I'll be able to update again before July. I have orientation on Monday and Tuesday, and then I'm leaving Saturday to go stay with my best friend until the 26th, so it'll mostly depend on whether or not I can get a chapter written between Tuesday night and Friday night, which will depend on what I have to do the rest of the week! Long story short, it might be a longer wait for the next chapter, but it will be much much shorter than a year :P Thank you all again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**"It is senseless to love anything this much." — Barabara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams**

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**"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Well, I've been afraid of changin' cause I've built my life around you. But time makes bolder, children get older, and I'm getting older too." — Dixie Chicks, "Landslide"**

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**MILEY'S POV: **

"I don't like this place."

Odette's declaration settled heavily on my heart. I tightened my grip on her small hand and felt like an overemotional idiot. It's just kindergarten. I'm not going to cry. That's dumb.

But I shot a glace over at Adeline who had her tiny arms wrapped as tight around Jake as they could go, and I knew I was going to cry. I didn't want to leave my babies, and they didn't want to leave us either. Odette didn't like this place, and Adeline was blatantly terrified. It hurt me to know that I had to send them off somewhere that they really didn't want to be.

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of Adeline's head and attempted to set her down. She clung stubbornly to him, a sob escaping her when she realized he was trying to put her down.

"Don't daddy!" She exclaimed. She hid her face in his neck and cried even harder. My heart kept feeling heavier and heavier and heavier and I knew it would break any moment now and end up somewhere near my feet.

I turned to Odette and kneeled down so we were eye level. Her green eyes showed no trace of tears, but she did not look pleased. Her little nose was scrunched up like she'd just smelled something awful. She shook her head once.

"No way. Those kids in there are dumb freaking horses." She declared.

Behind me, Jake was talking in a soft, soothing voice to Adeline, trying to convince her that kindergarten was going to be fun and not scary. I could tell she was not buying it.

I reached up and undid the clip in Odette's hair. Somehow she had managed to mess up her hair from the car to the school building.

"You haven't even walked in yet, Odette. How can you possibly know you don't want to be friends with those kids?" I asked. I brushed her fair hair back from her face and replaced the clip. Odette grabbed my hands as I was lowering them from her head.

"That kid in there can barely speak." She said. Her tone made it sound like the kid she was talking about was a Leper.

"You and your sister are smart for your age. Most kids don't talk as well as you do right now." I explained patiently. My knees were starting to ache from kneeling for so long. Proof that I'm getting old, I suppose. I stood back up. "You have to give it a chance."

Odette considered that for a second.

"Okay." She agreed.

She walked the few steps it took to reach the classroom door, and glanced in the room. You could hear the sounds of the kids who were already in the room playing. She examined the room for a long moment, and then turned and walked back over to me.

"It smells icky." She said stubbornly. She crossed her arms. "No kindergarten for Odette."

I stared at my daughter and couldn't figure out how she turned out as intelligent as she was. I figured she shared a lot of genes with Lana, who was exceptionally intelligent also. Regardless of how, I could already tell she was going to be a teenager from hell if she was putting up this much of a fight for simply going to kindergarten.

I picked her up, deciding the easiest way to get her through that door would be to carry her. She obviously sensed my train of thought because she immediately began squirming.

"Mommy! I don't want to!" She yelled.

I refused to loosen my grip and eventually she stopped squirming. She glanced up at me.

"I don't want to." She repeated.

_I don't want you to, either. _I wanted to say. But it was just one of those things that had to be done, as much as I hated it.

"You don't want to right now. But I promise you will have an amazing time and meet a lot of new friends. It seems scary at first, but it's actually not. Kind of like that ride at the fair. You remember that? You were so scared to go on it, but once you did, you had a lot of fun!" I tried.

She sighed in exasperation. "Mommy, school is not the fair. I don't see no goldfish or games or cotton candy or anything."

I turned and glanced at Jake and Adeline again, hoping he was making better progress than I was. Adeline had stopped crying, but she was still attached to him. He was rocking her in his arms like a little baby and for a second I thought he might cry too. But he met my gaze and gave me a look that clearly expressed how much he didn't want to do this too.

I looked back down at Odette, and was shocked to see that her former haughty expression had melted away to one that showed fear. I hugged her tightly.

"It will really be okay. I would never leave you some place where you could get hurt." I whispered. "Plus, Cole is just down the hallway."

Odette perked up.

"DUMB HEAD! I forgot that dummy head was here. I wanna see him." She demanded.

She wiggled persistently until I set her back down. I grabbed her hand to keep her from running down the hallway.

"It's almost time for school to start, so you have to go into your classroom. You'll see him today though during art." I explained. Jake walked up beside me and grasped my hand. Time to meet the teacher. He pulled me forward, Addie still in his arms, and I pulled Odette after me. We slinked into the classroom one by one like a lethargic snake.

The teacher—a kindly looking Indian woman with an adorable vintage dress on—greeted us immediately.

"Good morning!" She exclaimed. Jake and I returned the sentiment. Jake managed to set Adeline down. She quickly grabbed Odette's hand and held on tightly. She reached her other hand behind her and grabbed a handful of the bottom of my dress.

The teacher kneeled down in front of the twins. She extended her hand to Odette, who was immediately flattered and shook her hand primly. Odette adored being treated as an adult. The teacher extended her hand to Adeline too, but Adeline was not letting go of Odette's hand or my clothing. The teacher gave her a friendly pat on the arm instead.

"Why hello! You two must Adeline and Odette! I'm Ms. Luella, but everyone calls me Ms. L."

I prayed quickly that Adeline would take to her. I wasn't sure what we'd do if Adeline didn't warm up to this entire kindergarten situation. Odette was already warming up though, so at least we were fifty percent successful.

"I know a man named Lou! He is my dad's friend. He smokes cigars and makes movies." Odette exclaimed.

Ms. L raised her eyebrows. "Really now? That's really cool!"

Odette nodded. "Yeah, and you know what else is cool?"

"What?"

"My brother's here. He's showing everyone how to be an artist like he is. His name is Cole but really it's dumb head." She smiled sweetly.

I set my hand gently on top of Adeline's head. She was staring determinately at her feet. She had begged me to let her bring Prince Corey, but I had talked her out of it. I wished now that she had brought him. He might have given her more courage.

Ms. L turned to Adeline. "What about you, Adeline? Do you know any cool facts?"

Adeline backed up a bit so she was leaning back against Jake's legs.

"I wanna go home." She whispered. Her eyes followed the other kids around the room as they screamed and laughed.

Ms. L smiled. "Don't you worry, you're going to have so much fun that you'll forget all about home!"

The minute Ms. L said that, Jake and I flinched. Wrong thing to say.

We glanced down at Adeline and her eyes were slowly filling with tears. She turned around.

"I don't wanna go! I wanna go home! I don't wanna forget about home! I want Paint!" She started sobbing again.

Ms. L looked stricken. She slowly rose. I pulled Adeline into my arms and stroked her hair while Ms. L apologized to Jake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think that would upset her." She said.

Jake's voice sounded pained. Not enough for anyone else to really notice, but I could tell. "It's okay. Do you think me or my wife should stay here with her since it's her first day? Or do you think we should rip the Bandaid off quickly so to speak?"

"I want you or daddy to stay with me." Adeline whispered to me. I kissed her cheek and waited to hear what Ms. L thought.

"It's better to rip it off all at once. She'll be okay. I promise."

Neither Jake nor I felt good about leaving our girls here, but we especially felt unsure about leaving Addie. She was more fragile than Odette, who had already plowed her way over to the toys and was automatically assuming her natural role as leader. She reminded me so much of Jake sometimes that it was astounding.

I gently set Adeline down. I hugged her tightly.

"I love you to the moon and back, beautiful girl. I'll see you this afternoon. Be brave and have fun." I said. Adeline's lower lip trembled as the tears restarted. She gripped my hand.

"Don't leave me mommy! Please!" She begged. She pressed her cheek against my hand and sniffed. "I will miss you too much."

And my heart broke and I felt a burning behind my eyes. Jake set his hand on my lower back briefly and then leaned down to hug Adeline also. She lifted her head off my hand and released it, resting her head on Jake instead.

"I love you, Addie. Make a lot of new friends. It will be fun. And when you get home, there will be strawberries waiting for you!" He kissed her forehead and stood back up.

She sniffed and looked so small and alone without being attached to someone. Her pink eyelet dress was slightly wrinkled from all the holding, and the matching headband had slid back a little on her head. She sniffed again.

"Can we have mac and cheese for dinner?" She asked.

Jake and I both laughed at that, more out of relief than actual humor.

"Yes, honey. We'll have mac and cheese AND pizza." I promised.

She nodded and slowly turned around and I just couldn't get over how sad it was to see her standing there on her own. She looked so lost and scared. But she deliberately walked step by step until she was across the room beside her sister, and I was never as proud of her as I was in that moment.

"You're crying!" Jake said in actual surprise. He wrapped an arm around my waist.

I wiped at my eyes. "No I'm not. I'm just allergic to the smell in this room."

He laughed a bit at that. Ms. L walked back up to us (she'd left to talk to other parents).

"I'll call you if anything happens, but I fully expect everything will go smoothly."

I blinked and suddenly felt heat creeping up the back of my spine and a nauseous feeling take hold of my gut. _I fully expect everything will go smoothly. _My doctor's exact words at a checkup for Joy. It was depressing to me how no matter how many years passed, or how much progress I made, there would always be moments like this. Moments when I find myself hurtling suddenly back into the past, back into the worst time of my life, back to experience the pain of it again, a pain that never ever went away or faded, only made itself at home and kicked off its shoes and made an indention so permanent in my life that I got used to it being there. I was used to feeling that constant pain. There isn't a day that I don't think of those two. I expect to lie awake at night and hurt. But it was moments like these, when I didn't expect the memories to come crawling back up on me again, that hurt the most. And it made me tired. It made me just want to sleep.

Jake took my hand and we walked out of the room, and I caught one last glance of Adeline and Odette playing, and felt a little better. I've found that even a simple glance at them happy can slow down any panic I feel washing over me.

I didn't want to talk just then, and Jake could sense that. He walked quietly beside me, his hand still wrapped around mine. It was times like this that I felt weak, regardless of how strong I knew deep down I had to be to have gotten through all that I have. (Gotten through? I wasn't really sure if I could even say that I had gotten through any of my trials, because I will never leave them. So I guess I'm in a constant state of managing them and I like to think I do a very good job of that at least). I felt like the slightest thing could push me over the edge in that moment, and I knew if Jake asked me what was wrong, I would start crying. I didn't want that.

The car was extremely hot, and when I glanced at the dash, the temperature read eighty-seven degrees. Eight in the morning and eight-seven degrees. Normally that would mean it was a beach day, but with the mood I was in right now it meant it was a napping with the fan on day.

Jake drove silently. He rested a hand on my knee and put my favorite radio station on instead of his. The little things he did made more of a difference than he would think.

He stopped the car in front of a bakery. I turned to ask him what we were doing, but he was already getting out of the car. He slammed the door and made his way around the front of the car and over to my door. I pushed the door open and he opened his arms.

"Come here." He said simply.

I slid over on the seat and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and then suddenly pulled me out of the car, so he was holding me bridal-style in his arms.

His eyes were smiling but he worked hard to keep his face straight as he kicked the car door shut and started walking up to the door of the bakery.

"Jake…what are you doing?" I asked. I leaned my head against him, too tired to protest and make him set me down on the ground. I didn't care about this being the cover of the next issue of OK magazine. I was just tired.

"We're getting chocolate cake. And not just chocolate cake. We're getting that chocolate cake that has chocolate chips in it and chocolate icing and then chocolate shavings on top." He declared, his voice as serious as if he were a doctor telling a patient they were to receive a new heart.

I laughed, and it felt really good even though it sounded a bit like air being forced out of a balloon, weak and unnatural. Jake had decided a few years ago that the best way to handle my periodical PMS mood swings was chocolate of various kinds (chocolate bars, chocolate milkshakes, Hershey's kisses, chocolate coins, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate pie, chocolate fountains, chocolate covered strawberries…it was always a surprise each month what he'd come up with). I didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't the actual chocolate that made me feel better, but the sweet way he did it every month and the thought he put into it. He had begun to use the chocolate remedy for everything, declaring it a classic cure. He gave the girls chocolate whenever they were upset and now I guess decided that what I needed was artery clogging chocolate cake.

"You know chocolate doesn't fix everything, right?" I said, half-joking and half-serious. He looked down at me and smiled.

"I know, but when has it ever made anything worse?"

And I loved him so much right then. I loved him for the way he carried me inside as if he could see how tired I was. I loved the way he put an effort into his relationships with everyone he cared about every single day. I loved the way he cut filming just to walk his daughters into school and buy me chocolate cake. I love the way he loved me and the way I loved him.

Everyone in the bakery stared when we walked in, and I couldn't really blame them. Jake walked casually up to the counter, me still in his arms, and placed an order for the cake.

"How long will it take?" He demanded.

The woman behind the counter had hair so light it was almost white, but she looked fairly young. Her skin was clean and bright and her eyes were almost seafoam green. She blinked and her cheeks flushed (one of the common reactions women had when Jake Ryan addressed them directly).

"Um…about two hours?" She said weakly.

Jake nodded, but looked displeased with that answer.

"We have a few cakes premade in the back though, if you don't mind having one of those…" She suggested.

Jake brightened. "That'd be perfect! Thank you so much for your excellent grace and customer skills, Julie."

The girl—Julie (I wasn't sure how Jake was able to make out the name on her nametag, as it was quite messy)—blushed so hard I felt embarrassed for her and stumbled into the back.

"Poor girl." I said.

Jake glanced down at me, a grin still on his face. "What? I was very kind to her!"

I laughed. "I know you were. That's the problem. You can't just turn your Ryan charm on poor girls at the bakery."

He raised his eyebrow. "Do I sense _jealousy_, Mrs. Ryan?"

I rolled my eyes. "You wish."

His smile just kept getting brighter and brighter. He loved messing with me. "You know, I could probably ask her to take her clothes off and she would do it without a second thought."

I found it almost hilarious how that didn't phase me at all. "You sure could! But you wanna know something else?"

He smirked. "What, dearest?"

I leaned up closer to him. "You would never cheat on me." I whispered.

He closed the gap between our faces and kissed me and my heart started beating just as hard as that poor girls must be right now.

He pulled back and his smile was gone. It was replaced by a serious expression that made butterflies flutter around the bottom of my stomach. "I would never and could never." He stated. After a few moments, his grin returned. "I mean, after all, what other woman would eat this heart attack cake with me?"

I sighed dramatically. "You just love me for my high metabolism and love for chocolate."

He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Damn, you caught me."

Finally, the girl returned from the back with a cake box in her hand. She had a phone in her hand.

She set the cake box on the counter and hesitated.

"Mr. Ryan…could you say hi to my roommate? She's a huge fan, and she'd kill me if she knew I saw you and didn't get you to say hi to her." The girl cautiously extended the phone, as if she expected Jake to slap her hand down.

Jake cheerfully took the phone.

"Hi, Julie's roommate!" He said.

There was a brief sound of what sounded like screaming, and then silence. Jake pulled the phone away from his face and looked at the screen. He shrugged and then handed the phone back.

"I think she accidentally hung up or something."

Julie laughed nervously. "Actually, she probably passed out."

I grimaced. His ego would be sky high the entire day now.

Once we were back home, we went up to the lounge above our bedroom. We ate cake and drank wine and talked, and then I laid across his lap and he turned the TV on and we watched some arduous documentary on beetles for the longest time. It was nice.

"I wish we could have days like this more often." I admitted. It was something I never used to say, because I didn't want him to feel pressured into not going to film, but the wine and sugar made my tongue a little looser than normal. He set a warm hand on my stomach like he used to do all the time when I was pregnant and for a second, beneath the warm happy film of alcohol and cake and love, I felt that deep pain rise again.

"We could. We probably will. The director is pissed, and I think I'm ready to stop being in so many movies. I don't want to stop acting completely, but I'd be good with only doing one movie per year, if even that." He said. He pushed my hair out of my face. "We've got enough stress here without the added stress of movie after movie after movie. I'm getting too old for it."

I stared at his face, noticing the tired heaviness in his eyes and the stressful downward pull of his eyebrows. And it occurred to me that I've never heard Jake say he was too old to do anything before. I've never heard him say he was too tired to do something he wanted, or felt like he needed to do. It had been simple before…what Jake wanted done, he did. It was overwhelmingly sad to think that maybe that wasn't the case anymore. Maybe, after years upon years of sorrow and grief and stress and February days, he was not only just as tired as I was, but he was ready to give into the exhaustion. The exhaustion that he would have to feel in order to set aside his pride had to be overbearing. That filled me momentarily with a hysteria that was completely ridiculous, but nonetheless potent. I wanted to sit up and grab his shoulders and shake him and shake him and shake him until we were young again.

He smiled down at me, the tiredness evaporating just a little bit. "Besides, I like this better anyway. I like being around more. I like watching boring documentaries with you. I like being…normal."

_I like this, too_, I wanted to say, _but you aren't normal. You're Jake Ryan. You're going to be extraordinary whether you're filming movies or sitting with me, just because that's the kind of person you are. You're the kind of person who puts on his daughter's arm floats and jumps in the pool to make sure they work before letting her in the water. You're the kind of person who spends five hours in a candle shop looking for a certain limited edition scent just because your wife mentions that her mother used to light it in their house when she was in a good mood. You're the kind of person who can make a girl faint just by addressing her directly. You're Jake Ryan, and you don't give up, because you're just that kind of person. _

But I can sense the conversation is over with, and he's at peace with his decision. And really, it's not so sad that we're getting older or that finally we've reached that point where we want life to quiet down. It's just sad to me that Jake no longer sees acting as fun, but as a source of stress.

I take another sip of wine and feel warmth spreading throughout me. I close my eyes and feel sleep inching up on me bit by bit. Right before I'm about to drift off, a random sentence from the documentary crosses my mind. Certain types of beetles can carry things which are fifty times their own weight. I wonder briefly, at what point, it all becomes too much, and if maybe that's why their life span is only three to five years.

It's difficult to carry that much for that long.

* * *

**COLE's POV: **

You're never aware of how much you _really _cuss until you're put in a situation where you can't.

Now, I'd never advocate not cussing. I'm a firm believer in freedom of speech and all that. But when I found myself in front of a class of fifth graders, I suddenly wish I'd never cussed so I didn't become reliant on those words in my vocabulary. When I went to talk, there were such ugly and gaping holes where curse words normally fit in. It was almost uncomfortable how bland my sentences sounded, and it didn't sound like me at all.

The art room was just as pathetic as it was when I was here. Outdated white board, five tables stained with years upon years of paint and markers, and the most depressing color walls I've ever seen. I figure they used to be a crisp shade of white, or maybe a soft shade of gray-blue, but years accumulated and made it the most morbid gray. I felt like I was standing outside of some factory, not inside a room where creativity was supposed to be being formed. I couldn't remember what color the walls had been when I was here…probably the same color.

My desk was a pathetic, scratched up thing, but I really didn't mind so much because I don't plan to ever be sitting behind it. The only good thing about the art room was the plethora of new supplies. There were boxes upon boxes of bottles of acrylic and gesso paint, new packages of paintbrushes, boxes of clay, paper in every size and shape you could imagine, markers in shades so abundant that I was certain they didn't exist in marker form when I was a child, crayons, colored pencils…everything one could need. There was also one children's easel for every table, and they actually looked pretty sturdy.

I had no idea where to start with these kids. The actual art teacher had sent me a lesson plan for the first two weeks, but she said I could do whatever I wanted the first day. I couldn't remember any projects I did in elementary school except one where we had to look in a mirror and then draw ourselves, and that was far too complicated to start out with. I was feeling extremely self conscious all of a sudden, and I regretted the decision to do this. Who was I to think I could teach anyone anything?

I took up seven minutes with taking attendance and introducing myself. Now only forty three more. I could do that stupid thing where everyone goes around the room and introduces themselves, but I always hated that shit.

A sudden idea hit me, and I decided to go with it before I had second thoughts.

"This room is pretty ugly, right?" I said. Nervous giggles erupted throughout the room and a few of the kids widened their eyes. Oops. I forgot that some parents considered words like "stupid" and "ugly" to be bad words. Eh, oh well.

"Do you guys think you'd like to help make it more bearable?" I suggested.

It was easier than I thought it would be. They nodded eagerly and their eyes lit up when I told them the assignment. They had so much life, so much energy, so much happiness inside of them that sometimes it was almost like staring into a bright light. I wondered when my own light had burned out. I wondered when anyone's light burned out. I figured it was something that you couldn't draw a generic line for. My light probably burned out the day Isabella died. It's as if she came in the world with her own light, but left taking both mine and hers and my parents' with her. I haven't felt or seen that light in any of us since, except in extremely brief moments of extreme happiness.

Adeline and Odette were poster children for it though, and it occurred to me that maybe that's why they were such beautiful children. Beyond their obvious genetic beauty, there was something else there. A kind of unwavering happiness, a faithful belief in unconditional hope. It was the same thing that made every child beautiful, regardless of their physical attributes.

By the time the bell rang, I knew almost all their names, and the room had a lot more color. They all drew their favorite place in the entire world, and we taped them neatly to the wall. Some of the places were adorable. Some of them were sad. A little boy named Grant's favorite place in the entire world was the Cancer hospital, because, in his words, "that's where my mommy is". When he said that, he even smiled. He smiled like he knew it was a sad place, but still he would appreciate it because it was the place where his mother was, and that made it beautiful. And I wanted to tell him 'I've sort of been there too. I've seen my parents—particularly my mother—in horrible places in horrible conditions in horrible times'. But for some reason, he seemed stronger than I was then and am now. He didn't need any guidance, he didn't need any help. All he wanted was to proudly tape the picture of his mother in the hospital bed to the wall. Because it is what it is to him.

My day worked in reverse: I had the fifth graders first thing in the morning, then the fourth graders, then the third graders, then a lunch break, then the second graders, then the first graders, and lastly, the kindergarteners. There were three classes in each grade, and it rotated where one class would go to art on Monday, then on Tuesday they'd go to P.E., then on Wednesday they'd go to music, and then they'd be back to art on Thursday.

The day went on smoothly despite my initial panic. The kids—well, most of them—were enthusiastic about the assignment and by the end of the day the room was looking a lot brighter. By the time the kindergarteners came in, I was beginning to feel at home in the room.

When I saw Adeline's face, I knew it was a very lucky thing her class had art on Mondays, because I didn't know if she could have made it another hour without someone she knew. When she saw me she ran at me full speed, the most relieved expression on her face that it broke my heart.

"C!" She cried in joy. I picked her up and she clutched me tightly. I glanced over her shoulder and Odette was already at a table with three other kids whom she was entertaining with an animated story about God only knows what.

I patted Adeline's back and then set her back down. I expected her to protest, but she just kind of stood there, looking almost empty. It scared me.

"Addie? Are you okay?" I asked.

She glanced up at me and nodded. She grabbed my hand.

"C, is it almost time to go home?" She asked. She sounded desperate.

I didn't expect it to break my heart as much as it did. Adeline was just one of those children that got to you. Her sweet disposition and frail smile affected people in ways I've never seen.

"Yeah, Addie. It's almost time to go home. Just my class and then it's time to go! But we're gonna have fun in my class, right?" I said.

She brightened up a little and smiled.

"Yeah! Your class will be fun." She nodded.

I grinned. "That's the spirit! Now why don't you go sit down?"

She wasn't as energetic about that, but she did as she was told. She at first started to walk to sit next to her sister, but then stopped when she realized there was no open seat. And for a moment, I was furious at Odette. I knew it wasn't fair to expect her to watch over Adeline constantly, but Adeline was delicate. She needed Odette, especially today.

Adeline just sort of stood there, and I was willing to bet this had never happened to her. She always had someone or something to cling to or hide behind. Prince Corey, Odette, Mom, Dad, me, Paint, Emily…there was always someone or something. And now, there was no one and nothing.

I wanted to let her sit up at the front of the class with me, but I knew I couldn't do that, and that hurt. I had to watch her slowly turn around and look for another seat, the loneliest expression on her face.

Happiness warmed me when a little girl with auburn pig tails yelled "Adeline! Come sit with me!". Adeline shyly walked over and pulled herself up on the seat beside the auburn haired girl. The auburn haired girl smiled and held Adeline's hand, and it was amazing how much more at ease Addie looked when someone was holding her hand.

"Yeah, that's my brother, dumb head." I heard Odette exclaiming loudly to her new friends. "'Cept his name is really Cole, but I call him dumb head."

I had an urge to smack myself in the forehead. Of course. I should have known teaching Odette was never going to be possible. I decided to let it slide this time, but someone was going to have to talk to her about that at some point.

I called role, and the auburn haired little girl's name turned out to be Joy. It made me happy that that name didn't affect Adeline at all. It made me happy that she could hear it and not feel like someone punched her in the stomach.

I explained the assignment to them carefully. I was curious to see what Adeline and Odette would draw. I drifted from table to table, giving help when asked and making suggestions, until it was ten minutes until the bell. Everyone brought their pictures up to the front then, and I taped them one by one up on the wall. Odette proudly pushed hers into my hands, and I felt the most intense curiously take over me. I wondered if one of the girls would be an artist like me.

Odette's was good, but she didn't seem to care very much for it. She had looked bored when doing it and that didn't really surprise me. Odette was destined for the stage and it was silly to ever doubt that for a moment.

What was surprising was her favorite place. I had expected Build-A-Bear or something akin to that. But she had drawn, very messily, a stage I didn't recognize.

"Where's this?" I asked her.

She smiled. "I don't know yet."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Odette, you were supposed to draw your favorite place. How can that be your favorite place if you don't even know where it is?"

She scoffed. "Because I sawed it on the TV. Daddy was there. But I will one day, 'cause it's my favorite place, and people always go to their favorite places."

She dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder and marched off. A few girls automatically followed her, and I knew she'd be popular from this point on.

Adeline's was a little better than Odette's. She had drawn the garden her and mom tended to periodically in the backyard. We were all there, me and our parents and Odette and even Paint. She was planting pink flowers and there was a rainbow in the sky.

"I've been to my favorite place." She clarified. I laughed.

Once everyone was back in their seats, Joy raised her hand.

"Yes?" I asked.

She examined the walls thoughtfully and then looked back at me. "Is yours up there?"

I blinked. "My favorite place?"

"Yes."

Everyone stared at me.

"Well, no. That was your assignment, not mine." I said.

Joy nodded and then put her hand down. A few seconds later she extended it back in the air.

"Yes?" I asked again.

"What would it be?" She asked.

I started to answer, but then closed my mouth. Where _would _it be? Many possibilities crossed my mind—the bed back at the apartment, curled up with Emily in those first few moments of the morning when the sun has just risen and everything is blue and her body is warm with sleep and she holds me like she never wants to let go, or maybe at home with Adeline and Odette and Emily and my parents, all of us playing a game or laughing about something my dad or Odette just said, or maybe even the swingset in Emily's backyard that we used to always hang out at when we were little.

There were many possibilities, but I realized the true answer wasn't any of those. The true answer was Virginia, around a campfire, with Emily leaning against me and all the stars actually shining and me realizing that I love her and her saying she loves me and everything being _okay_. It was that entire night. It was the way Emily laughed when we fought over marshmellows to roast, it was hearing my mother laugh—honestly laugh—for the first time in a long time, it was a new beginning of sorts. And it was my favorite.

"Virginia." I answered. "The backyard to a house in Virginia."

Joy seemed satisfied with that answer.

"You should draw that and put it up there too!" Another little girl suggested.

I smiled. "I just might."

The school day ended quite nicer than it started. I helped Adeline get her backpack out of her classroom, and then I walked the twins out to the car rider line. Of course my mother was already there. She was third in line and she looked so apprehensive.

"Mommy!" Adeline cried. She started to take off for the car, but I explained to her that she had to wait until they called her name, and then she could get in the car. She didn't like that at all.

I finished cleaning up in the art room, and then I left for home. The anger I felt at the situation with Angie resurfaced as I was driving. I wanted to kill her boyfriend.

When I entered the apartment, Emily and Angie were on the couch under a giant blanket watching something on Lifetime, and Oliver was in the kitchen making a cake. He was even wearing an apron that I had no idea where it came from.

"Is this a sorority house now?" I joked. I was relieved to see Angie was no longer crying. She looked a lot better.

Emily looked up and smiled when she saw me. She jumped up from the couch and darted across the space between us, settling herself in my arms. I'd called her at lunch and told her how the day was going so far, and I could tell she was genuinely happy for me.

"Was the second half of the day just as good as the first?" She asked.

"A little better, a little worse. I'll tell you more about it later." I said. I kissed her (ignoring the angry glares from Oliver), and she made her way back to the couch to continue her Lifetime movie fest with Angie.

"What kind of cake are you making?" I asked Oliver, attempting to make peace between us. He slammed the door of the oven shut and turned around, glaring at me.

"That is irrelevant because this is the _girls' _cake. I made it for them. It's the happy cake and it's just for them."

I resisted the very strong urge to laugh and instead pretended to be offended.

"Oh, well, excuse me! Did you put weed in the cake?"

Oliver stopped moving.

"_What?" _He snapped.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was just asking if you put weed in the cake. You called it a 'happy cake' and all, so I figured there was some substance making it happy."

He glared at me and turned around, tending to the cake again.

"For your information, the substance is sugar. Not all people need illegal drugs to be happy. Some people are pleased by a simple coconut cake."

"So it's a coconut cake!" I exclaimed. I loved pissing him off.

He shook his head sadly. "You are just like your father."

"My dad loves you too, Oliver."

I walked over to where Emily and Angie were sitting, and sat down beside Emily. I wanted to get her alone so I could ask her what Angie had decided to do and what had happened today, but I understood that now wasn't the time.

The girls ate some of the cake and then (thankfully) Oliver left. Emily made me something for dinner and I sat with them while I ate, trying not to think of how many points it docked off my manliness to be sitting here watching Lifetime movies. Once I was finished with my dinner, I began working on drawing my favorite place. I got immersed in that, and the next thing I knew, Angie was getting her stuff together to leave. Emily and her said goodbye, and Angie leaned down and hugged me. I awkwardly patted her back, a bit surprised at the sudden affection.

"Thank you." She told me, and I could see that she honestly meant that.

After she was gone, I set my sketchbook aside and pulled Emily down on my lap.

"What's she going to do?" I asked.

Emily turned around a little and stared at me for a moment, and then she gripped my face and kissed me like she hadn't seen me in like a year.

She pulled back (to my regret) and kept looking at me with that same look.

"What?" I asked.

"I love you. I love that you care about my friend. I love that you asked what she is going to do. I love that you not only didn't care that she stayed here all day, but you even sat with us and watched Lifetime movies. I love you, I love you, I love you." She rushed out. She kissed me again and I had no idea something that any decent human being would do would get such a reaction from her.

I debated showing her my favorite place. If she saw that right now she'd probably jump me right here right now. But I decided that'd be exploiting her emotions and wrong, so I kept the sketchbook closed and on the table.

"I love you too." I replied. And it was true. And it felt so good to know that it was true. That she loved me and I loved her.

"She's staying at the apartment with Mary tonight. She said she was going to have to think some more, but I think—and hope—that she's going to leave him. If so, that works out perfectly because Mary needs another roommate now that I've moved out. And I think they'd get along." She said.

We'd officially moved her out of the apartment she had been sharing with Mary and into here a few days ago.

"I hope she leaves him too." I said. But I doubted she would after seeing the fear on her face this morning. The fear of being alone is much stronger than the fear of physical pain.

For some reason I didn't know, I just had a feeling that I was going to beat the shit out of Gabe someday soon. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but I knew it was bound to happen eventually. I couldn't wait.

I told Emily about the last part of my day. She seemed just as upset about poor Adeline as I did. She seemed to think she'd do okay tomorrow though, and I agreed. My mom called me and interrogated me for twenty minutes about how my day was and how Adeline did in my class. By the time I finally got off the phone with her, Emily had fallen asleep on the couch, her hair fanning out all around her on the couch. I stared at her and realized that my favorite place was not Virginia. My favorite place was the space between her fingers, the deepness of her eyes, the curve of her shoulder. My favorite place really wasn't a place at all, and suddenly I understood Odette's picture today. I understood what she meant. It wasn't so much the actual place; it was just some place you feel safe, some place you feel like you belong. And she felt like she belonged on a stage, just as I felt like I belonged with Emily.

I didn't want anything to change, and that desire left me almost breathless with panic, because things always change. Favorite colors and favorite songs and opinions on politics and one's views of the world changed from week to week almost. No one is the same person they were even yesterday; we're all evolving at a pace so rapid it almost makes me sick to my stomach.

It didn't feel like it was me or Emily that was changing though. It felt more like the universe was changing, that something was about to happen that was bigger than us, that we had no control over. It felt like time was limited.

What becomes your sanctuary if you lose your favorite place?


End file.
